


What We Can't Have

by nightshiftblues



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Daddy Kink, Enemies to Lovers, Gee I Wonder If Someone's Gonna Catch Feelings, Hate Sex, In Public, Jealousy, Lingerie, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Pining, Spanking, Unrequited Love, like so much jealousy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-06
Updated: 2018-08-09
Packaged: 2019-03-27 22:10:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 54,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13890156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightshiftblues/pseuds/nightshiftblues
Summary: James Madison is happily married and George Washington is, well, George Washington. Jefferson and Hamilton, having long since accepted they will never be satisfied, decide to take the edge off with some good old fashioned hate sex.It works well enough until it doesn’t.





	1. Rule #3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, the bare bones of this concept are from that one anime (Scum’s wish). It’s not similar enough to be a crossover and I am only moderately ashamed.
> 
> Really I’ve just been wanting to write a “characters touch genitals physically in ch 1 and take a long-ish time to touch genitals emotionally”-type of a fic for a while now. Enjoy?

It started after an office party because of course it did.

The e-vite had said ‘a great opportunity to network with shareholders’, which translated to ‘all management-level personnel are obligated to show up at least for a couple of hours’. So there Hamilton was, some hipster brand craft beer in hand and loosened tie hanging from his neck like an unfastened noose.

It wasn’t as though he hated these functions (no matter what Lafayette said). He just preferred to get drunk in settings where he didn’t have to hold back from getting into politics in case his impromptu debating partner would turn out to be an important executive with a blatant right-wing bias (been there, done that). So what was the point, really?

He also wasn’t a fan of getting drunk in these upscale sports bar-type lounges that typically rented for successful companies to have their networking parties in. John and Gilbert were in their element as usual, all smiles and firm handshakes, but John and Gilbert came from money. Alex knew he was dressed for the part, but new money didn’t buy cocktail party banter and anecdotes about the family house renovation project.

Alex locked eyes with John and tilted his head towards the toilets. The people gathered around the table were too engrossed in a conversation about the ongoing golf-season to pay attention to Alex as he slipped out of the booth and headed for the restroom.

Another byproduct of office parties he wasn’t a big fan of: making eye contact with his boss while his boss had his dick in his hands.

What interior design genius decided it would be a good idea to hang a wall-wide mirror above the urinals? What kind of a normally socialized human being goes ‘oh yes, certainly people enjoy either staring at their own reflection at close range or surveying the rest of the room as they pee’?

Washington nodded at Alex in that casual yet authoritative manner of his and Alex gave him a smile that felt more like a grimace. Something about this man’s mere presence turned him from a smooth talking social chameleon into a fumbling mess no matter how much time he spent working for the guy. The two and a half beers he’d downed just to get through all the golf-talk weren’t helping.

Alex decided to go for the sinks. He would come across as vain, sure, like he had just come to the restroom to touch up his hair, but there was no way in hell he was whipping his dick out in Washington’s presence.

Well, not in this context, anyway. Alex gave himself an internal eyeroll.

He stole a discreet glance as he walked past his boss. Washington had shed his suit jacket and the muscles of his back were giving his white undershirt a hard time. Alexander’s gaze traveled helplessly down to the smooth lines of his powerful thig muscles. All of Washington’s suits were tailored, of course, and he tended to favor a comfortable but close fit. Which made sense, Alex supposed, he would probably too if he was built like a fucking Greek god. Or one of the titans.

By the time he made it to the sinks Alexander had decided his face could use a splash of water.

He tried not to attend too closely to the sound of a zipper and the approaching footsteps and focused on not drenching the front of his shirt with the lukewarm water he was flinging at his burning cheeks. Washington washed his hands methodologically. Alex didn’t even need to look to know the exact way those thick yet capable fingers worked around the broad palms with surprising dexterity. He did anyway.

The worst part was that he didn’t even need to put thought into whether Washington was the type to fuck someone in a bathroom stall; all that mental labor had been done already, in excruciating detail, during the late hours at night and (worse) the idle moments at work. The answer was that not usually, Washington was definitely the ‘hotel unnecessarily nice for a sleazy hookup’-type. But he might condescend to it with some provocation, for someone who needed to be taught a lesson. Someone filthy enough that Washington would consider it fitting.

Alexander’s most definitely doomed soul nearly left his body when that heavy, freshly dried palm fell on his shoulder. It was a friendly type of a pat, the kind that someone with actual muscle mass to speak of would have weathered with ease. Alexander felt the impact of it vibrate through his entire shoulder blade. Just a little bit more pressure and Washington could have easily pushed him down on his knees.

Yes, yup, definitely no beer for Alexander in any building even remotely close to his boss ever again.

“You alright there, son? Need some water?” Washington’s voice was a concerned rumble and the hand stayed there, resting unintentionally heavy on his shoulder.

Alex glanced at himself in the mirror and decided that being seen as a lightweight was miles better than Washington knowing the true reason behind the blush on his cheeks. “Nah, the air is just kinda stuffy out here. Felt like I needed to freshen up.”

Washington smiled at him sympathetically through the mirror. The hairs at the back of Alexander’s neck didn’t know whether they should rise from annoyance or fluster. He often managed both somehow, around Washington. Alex could tell he would call him ‘son’ soon.

“No shame in it. A small thing like you doesn’t soak up alcohol the way us lumbering giants do.”

And by God, those words would have probably gone straight into Alexander’s dick had the delivery not been as ‘benevolent barbeque dad’ as humanly possible. _Jesus fucking Christ._

Alex managed a weak smirk via the mirror. “I’m sure I’ll manage a few more.”

Washington gave his shoulder another absent minded pat and turned towards the door. “Suit yourself, just take care not to bite off more than you can chew, son.”

 _Oh, you have no idea._ As soon as the door swung closed after Washington, Alex slumped against the counter and groaned quietly into his palms.

He really needed to get laid.

 

~~~

 

A few hours and two vodka mixers later people were starting to shrug coats on and shake hands. Alexander was among the first of them - if these weren’t his co-workers, he would have lied about having work the next morning and left an hour ago.

Suddenly the weight of a body significantly larger than his nearly toppled him over.

“Hamiltonnn,” Jefferson slurred, arms wrapped around his shoulders. His breath smelled like bourbon. “Share your taxi with me!”

“What the fuck,” he sputtered, tried to step away, but thought better of it when they both almost went down. He wasn’t planning on leaving this world getting squished under a shit-faced Thomas Jefferson.

“Hamilton,” Madison said casually as if he didn’t notice Alexander’s furious expression. “You’ve ordered a taxi, yes?”

Alex narrowed his eyes. “An uber. What’s it to you?”

Madison smiled. “Dolley won’t be able to pick me up for another hour at least, and I think Thomas won’t make it that long without passing out. I believe he lives not far away from you.”

It was difficult to look assertive when Alex was barely staying upright with Jefferson still leaning on him, humming some tune totally different from the one playing on the speakers. Hamilton gave it his best shot anyway.

The ‘fuck no’ must have been extremely visible on his face as James raised an eyebrow and pitched his voice up suddenly: “Or would that be too much trouble?”

A few big name executives glanced their way with mild interest and Alex grit his teeth. Madison was the worst type of a snake. “Of course not, happy to help.”

Madison smiled with his teeth and handed him a $50 bill. “It is appreciated.”

Alex threw a hesitant glance over his shoulder as he hauled Jefferson to the exit. He didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye to Washington, thank him for the evening.

Probably for the best.

As soon as they entered the backseat of the uber, Jefferson straightened up and scooted to sit as far away from Alex as possible.

His eyes widened first with surprise and then with offence. “You’re not even actually shit-faced, are you?”

Jefferson gave him a disdainful glance and straightened up his vest. “Very observant, Nancy Drew. _Some_ of us can hold our liquor, you know.”

For a few seconds Alexander just blinked in mute, furious confusion. “Then why the fuck-"

“Why don’t you mind your own damn business?” Jefferson snapped.

“Mind my own- I’ll mind my damn business once you stop going out of your way to fuck with me!”

There was a flash of playful malice in Jefferson’s side eye now. “It’s pretty obvious absolutely no one is going out of their way to fuck with your thirsty ass, Hamilton.”

Alex nearly hissed. He tried not to get the objective truth in the jab get to him.  “Oh, real classy.”

“Look,” Jefferson pinched the bridge of his nose, “I’ve had a shitty evening, can we just get through this fifteen minute car ride without doing this?”

Alex dug his phone out of his pocket, grumbling to himself. “Yeah, you and me both.”

But by the end of the ten-minute silence Hamilton’s interest had been piqued. What possible reason could have driven Jefferson to pretend he was embarrassingly drunk in front of all of their colleagues, just to share an uber with him? It just wasn’t adding up.

Alexander’s evening had ranged from tedious to humiliating to downright painful, so any distraction was welcomed. By the time they pulled up to Jefferson’s apartment building, he had decided he would make solving this mystery the one accomplishment to come out of the night.

“Keep the change,” he told the driver and slid out of the car after Jefferson. Madison had been right; it wouldn’t take him long to walk home once Jefferson would kick him out.

“I gotta pee,” Alex replied to the glare Jefferson threw at him over his shoulder.

“Tough shit.”

“If you wanna chance me pissing on your doorstep, that’s on you.”

Seemed like Jefferson wasn’t; he left the door ajar after himself. Alex ducked inside and glanced around with mild curiosity. Even when only illuminated by the outside streetlights (and moonlight if Hamilton was feeling particularly poetic), the apartment was like straight out of an IKEA catalogue, all modern and sleek and almost eerily spotless.

“Down the hall to the left,” Jefferson called over his shoulder, already headed for the open-plan kitchen.

“Thanks love,” Alex cooed and snickered at the raised middle finger he received as a reply.

Alex did an admirable job of not snooping around the medicine cabinet and spent a good half-minute staring at himself in the mirror, wondering what made him so un-fuckable. His new suit actually fit him, unlike the baggy Goodwill ones he’d worn back when he interned for the company. He looked lean (an adjective he preferred over Hercules’ ‘starving’) and sharp, though his overgrown, messy hair and the bags under his eyes always made him look at least a bit sloppy. Dishelmed. In a ‘hot, impassioned genius’-kind of way, he hoped. Alex grimaced slightly and made his way back to the living room.

“Took you long enough to steal the toiletries,” Jefferson said, lounging on the sofa, long feet propped on the coffee table and a glass of whiskey in his hand. He’d lost his magenta suit jacket and unbuttoned his vest, along with about half of his shirt. The fact that Alexander’s gaze traveled down the exposed scrap of toned, brown skin attested to the fact that he _really_ needed to get laid.

He stood in front of the coffee table, crossed his arms and snorted. “Now this is just sad.”

Jefferson swirled the glass in his hand. “What is?”

“Oh, I don’t know, leaving a party so that you can drink in the dark by yourself?”

As a reply Jefferson only nudged at another, empty glass sitting on the coffee table with his foot. Oh. Hamilton poured himself one and sat cautiously down next to Jefferson. He appeared deep in thought, staring into the middle distance with a slight frown.

Something about the weirdness of this setting, being in Jefferson’s living room with only the hallway light on and a drink in his hand, was getting to Alex. He wasn’t sure how to approach any of it so he twisted to face the man, propped a knee on the sofa and his elbow on the back rest. Casual and somewhat empathetic, like they were some talking buddies rather than two notoriously badly matched co-workers.

“Why’d you wanna leave the party, Thomas?”

Maybe the guy actually was a bit more tipsy than he let on, since the following words came out thick and sounding slightly like something he hadn’t fully intended to say out loud. “Couldn’t be around James that drunk. Woulda said something bad.”

Hamilton had never been accused of being particularly observant of other people’s feelings, but even he could connect the dots here.

The loud snort he let out seemed to shake Jefferson out of his reverie and alert him to the fact they were not, indeed, some talking buddies lamenting about their problems over drinks.

“What the fuck is you problem?” he hissed, his expression warped with distain and badly disguised embarrassment.

Alex swallowed any further giggles bubbling up in his chest. “I’m sorry it’s just- pining after your straight best friend? How clichéd can you get?”

Jefferson’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “I dunno, how about a twink with a power play fetish mooning over his two decades older, elusive boss?”

Alex sputtered, his cheeks suddenly on fire. “Okay, first of all, I’m not a twink, and second of all,” the two fingers he held up wavered and Jefferson raised an expectant eyebrow. “I’m not a fucking twink.”

Now it was Jefferson’s turn to snort. “Right.”

“Fine, congrats.“ Alex threw his arms in the air and nearly gave them both a whiskey shower. “We’re two losers with unrequited feelings, having a drink in the dark! Happy?”

“Ecstatic,” Jefferson spat and raised his glass into a toast.

“Great!”

The both drank in a tense silence.

Alex could never really say afterwards what prompted his most intense flashes of genius (this included the ones that landed him in colossal trouble). Maybe it was something about the way the hallway-light fell on Jefferson’s slowly bobbing Adam’s apple as he downed the rest of his whiskey. Or perhaps it was just the only logical conclusion to the particular course of events of the evening; Washington’s benevolent dismissal, the uncomfortable forced networking, going home with Jefferson of all goddamn people and somehow coming clean of the train wrecks that were their love lives.

And he had been hoping to go home with someone, hadn’t he?

Alex didn’t fight or question the impulse, there would be plenty of time for that later. He set his glass down and leaned closer to Jefferson in the same motion. Instead of pulling back he stayed close to Jefferson’s jawline, head ducked in an angle that enabled him to gaze up at him suggestively.

Jefferson met his gaze with an unreadable, slightly calculative expression. The lack of ‘get the fuck away from me’ on his face encouraged Alex to grab Jefferson’s glass and set that on the coffee table as well. He licked his lips and straddled the man slowly, just waiting for the moment the other shoe would drop and he would get thrown out of the apartment.

Except he started to feel less and less like that was about to happen. There was a certain… not an electricity, but an anticipatory tension in the air, like they were both watching a train crash in slow motion, horrified yet mesmerized at the same time.

There was none of the usual probing and coaxing here, just two mouths crashing into each other as if to rip the band aid off in one swift motion. There was even a slight clatter of teeth, and then Jefferson’s tongue, and Jefferson’s slightly cold hands pulling Alexander’s shirt out on his pants and pushing under it, running up his sides and down his back. Jefferson’s tongue tasted like whiskey, but then so did Alexander’s, he supposed.

Alex’s hands hovered by Jefferson’s hair. “Is it okay if I..?” he muttered against his lips.

“Go ahead,” Jefferson grunted and Alex sank his fingers into the curls as Jefferson nibbled on his lower lip. Alex threaded his hands through the mass of hair and thought about Jefferson’s fingers pulling on his.

It was a weird mixture of awkward and incredible, this insistent and hungry mouth on his and the slight scratch of nails running down his back. Alex couldn’t quite tell if his breathing was turning heavy with want just because he was so goddamn touch starved, or if Jefferson really did kiss exactly like he needed to be kissed, and would probably only get better with some practice.

He wouldn't be as good as Washington, Alex knew that. But fuck, nobody would. That was _the point,_ the locus of this stranglehold Washington had on him, this terrible and scorching desire, was that no one could compare, or even come close, to the sheer dominance Washington held over a room.

But there was something here; a certain lazy self-assuredness in Jefferson that drew Alexander in as much as it pissed him off. He couldn’t help the way he naturally gravitated towards people who commanded the room’s attention any more than he could help breathing. And Jefferson’s hands may not have been large and powerful like Washington’s, but his fingers felt strong and capable, massaging into the flesh of Alexander’s hips and thumbs brushing over his hip bones. Jefferson was taller and broader and stronger and perfectly capable of bending Alex over a flat surface and pinning him down, and wasn’t that all that mattered, really?

He could work with this.

They pulled apart eventually, panting and quivering and a little bit mortified.

“Okay, okay, okay,” Jefferson sputtered, his drawl even heavier than usual. “Why the fuck is this happening right now?”

Alex grinned and rolled his hips. Jefferson’s jaw muscle jumped slightly. “Why not? We’re both sexually frustrated and too bitter over what we can’t have to pursue a proper relationship with someone we actually like,” he listed the thoughts that had flashed through his head right before he first straddled Jefferson. “And like, correct me if I’m wrong here, but I’m getting a sense that you’re not in any immediate danger of falling unconditionally and irrevocably in love with me.”

“Was that a fucking Twilight quote?”

“Yup,” Alex popped the p. “One you recognized.”

Thomas rolled his eyes. “Just because Jemmy made me watch it with him and…” he trailed off. There was a flicker of something like pain on his face.

For a moment Jefferson just stared at the opposite wall and licked his lips, as if to consider the taste of Hamilton still lingering on them. “You know, out of all the ideas you’ve had, this one might not be completely moronic.”

Alex rolled his eyes. “Gee, already making me feel all treasured and special, Teej.”

Something in Jefferson's eyes seemed to darken. His gaze ran down and up Hamilton’s frame, slow and considering. “Yeah? That how you want Washington to make you feel, treasured and special? Want him to make love to you sweet and tender and buy you dinner afterwards?” Alex swallowed. Jefferson’s hand intertwined with his hair and yanked his head back. A quiet ghost of a whimper fell from his lips.

“Didn’t think so.”

And then Alex was being thrown on his back on the sofa, and Jefferson was _on_ him, lips and teeth on his neck and hands pinning his hips down. Jefferson sucked on his pulse point, hard, and Alex tried to buck his hips up, but wasn’t allowed to budge for an inch. He whined quietly and the lips on his neck quirked up.

The fantasy came to him easy as anything, probably thanks to loads and loads of late-night practice. Washington’s hands pinning him down with ease, hands that could break him but wouldn’t no matter how much he begged. An insistent, hot mouth marking him with no regard for how prominent the spot on his neck, how difficult to hide.

Jefferson pushed his shirt up, and Hamilton’s back arched off the sofa as if he was being electrocuted when Jefferson’s soft lips closed around his nipple. His hands came to pin Alexander’s wrists to the hand rest as he swirled his tongue over it, slowly, followed by a grace of teeth.

“Fuck, please,” Alex panted, twisting uselessly under him.

“Hmm?” Jefferson hummed. His hair tickled Hamilton’s chest.

“Just fuck me already.”

Thomas chuckled. “Someone’s needy.” His eyes narrowed in a cat-like manner. “Think you’ll have to do some more convincing, though.”

He gave Alexander’s throat one more kiss and straightened up. “Take those clothes off, but don’t move otherwise.” Then he took off.

Alex chewed on his cheek in irritation as he unbuttoned his shirt. ‘Do some more convincing’, his ass. He was Alexander goddamn Hamilton, he knew he for a fact he was a delight in bed. If anything, Thomas should be convincing _him_ to let him fuck him.

He was lucky Alexander liked being made to beg.

By the time Jefferson made it back to the living room, Alex was lounging naked on the couch, his best ‘come and get it’-expression slapped on. He could tell Jefferson tried to look nonchalant, but failed to disguise the appreciative once-over he gave Alexander’s body.

Thomas raised an eyebrow at Alexander’s knowing smirk, and tossed a lube bottle at him. He barely caught it.

“Why don’t you loosen yourself up for me,” he drawled.

The Virginian background never showed in Washington's speech (something that may have led to Hamilton disparaging his boss’s home state by accident once or twice) and Alex wondered, not for the first time, if it would push through when the man was turned on.

He squeezed a generous amount of the fruity-smelling lube (no need to be frugal since it was on Jefferson) on his fingers and propped his upper body over the wide hand rest, legs spread and ass on display. “Like this?”

Jefferson sat down slowly. “Mmhm.”

Alex smirked to himself and sank a finger inside. This was perfect. He couldn’t see Jefferson, but he felt the weight of his gaze, heard the soft rustling on his clothes and his slightly heavy breathing. Perfect for imagining a different set of eyes on him. Appreciating the show he was putting on while getting ready to be fucked.

Two fingers and Alexander’s moans were getting more genuine by the minute. The angle was making it difficult to hit his prostate, which in some messed up way was working for him. The idea of not being quite satisfied until he’d get a cock up his ass, the promise of the satisfaction to come was raising goosebumps over the skin of his arms. The fact that he was painfully hard already attested to the fact it had been awhile.

Not that he was the only one. There was the sound of a zipper, then Thomas spitting on his palm and then the slick sound of skin sliding on skin. Alex stole a glance just to see what he was in for, then groaned into the fabric of the couch and added a third finger.

If he stopped to think about it (which was, like, the opposite of what he was trying to accomplish here), it probably would have broken his mind trying to figure out how the fuck he ended up here, fingering himself on Thomas Jefferson’s ugly firetruck red sofa. Needing it so badly. But there they were and Alex would be damned if he wasn’t gonna make the best of this lapse of judgement.

Hell, if Jefferson was half as good at using what he had as Alex suspected he might be, he might be partial to making this a regular lapse of judgement.

“I’m ready,” Alex grunted.

There was rustling of a condom wrapper and Thomas ran his palms up the backs of Alex’s thighs. His hands were a lot warmer now.

“Hold yourself spread,” he whispered.

Alex swallowed his fluster and did as he was told. Thomas stroked up and down his spine, feather light. “Good boy.”

He pushed in just slow enough that it didn’t hurt, aside from the usual slight sting that Alex weathered with ease.

“Ah, fuck,” Thomas groaned, his hands coming to grip Alexander’s hips.

Alex braced his hands against the hand rest and pushed back, impaling himself on the last remaining inches of Jefferson’s cock. “Well get on it, then.”

For a second there, Alex was genuinely worried Jefferson would be gentle. He wasn’t.

The first thrust would have thrown Alex against the hand rest had it not been for the iron grip Jefferson had on his hips. His pace was as thorough as it was brutal, slamming home with an obscene sound with every snap of his hips.

As much as Alex liked fucking himself on other people’s dicks (rolling his hips and tightening his muscles just right until they whined for it), just kneeling there and taking it was even better. Made him feel claimed and used in the best of ways. He arched his back and spread his legs wider, used every trick he knew to both make this good for Jefferson, and to communicate that he needed to keep doing _that._ He could tell already that this wouldn’t last long, but then again that’s what you get for having sex while tipsy.

“Harder,” Alex moaned, really just for the sake of saying it. The grip on his hips tightened and the mounting, relentless pressure made his toes curl up.

Washington would make Alex ride him, he was sure, but usually it would be like this. He’d be held down and fucked into the mattress, filled again and again until he couldn’t help coming just from that. He couldn’t settle on a fantasy and stick to it as per usual; the different images kept flashing across his mind and blending into each other. Washington pinning him against a door. Bending him over a desk. The backseat of his car.

“Sir,” Alex cried. There wasn’t enough air no matter how much he gasped. “Sir, sir, sir!”

Thomas grunted. His movements were getting shorter, more erratic. “Don’t you fucking dare come on my couch, Hamilton.”

Alex’s fingers were blindly scrambling against the fabric but there was nothing to hold onto. Every thrust felt so fucking good now, every single one. The muscles of his thighs quivered with it.

“Pull my hair,” he groaned.

Jefferson did, and the harsh flash of pain combined with a particularly harsh thrust sent Alex right over the edge. He couldn’t remember the last time he come so hard, even if his brain had had the processing power to render anything beyond the violent wave of pleasure contracting his muscles. Jefferson moaned, properly for the first time since they started, and stilled, buried deep inside Alex. After a moment he slumped over him, pushing him into the gross damp spot on the fabric of the sofa.

For a minute or so laid there, heaving, probably stalling for the moment they’d have to come to terms with what they’ve just done.

Eventually Jefferson pulled out, and then showed Alex aside to look at the streaks of cum on his sofa.

“Dude.”

Alex stretched out his shoulders with a satisfying pop, making Jefferson grimace. “I don’t know what you expected to happen, man.”

Jefferson glared. The languid slackness of the orgasm was nearly fully wiped off his face already. “Who the fuck comes just from prostate stimulation alone?”

Alex was feeling fucked out and satisfied enough to wink at Jefferson as if this was post-coitus flirting rather than their usual pointless bicker. “Thanks for the dicking.” All of his muscles protested as he stood up. He would feel this for days. “As the bottom, I get fist bathroom rights.”

“We’re splitting the cleaning bill,” Jefferson yelled after him as he limped to the bathroom.

“In your dreams!”

Seeing his reflection in the bathroom mirror made Alex want to turn the lights off. It really hit him just than that Jefferson had seen him like this, all sweaty and red and wrecked. His hair a mess and fading marks on the tendons of his neck. The worst part was the twitch of interest his flaccid dick gave at the sight. Alex shot it an accusatory glare.

He sighed. At least he had someone to call now whenever Washington was making him feel like a bitch in heat. Which was… often.

Great. This had been a great idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Think of this as like a two-hour-long tv-show pilot. Future chapters will be way shorter so I can update more often.
> 
> [[Obligatory tumblr plug](https://nightshiftblues.tumblr.com/)]


	2. Rule #7

Alright, so, a teeny tiny oversight in the plan: being in the same room with a person Alex wanted to fuck him senseless, and a person who had, indeed, fucked him senseless. Well, two people if you counted John, but that was ancient history.

And then a bunch of people Alex had thought about doing it with once or twice, but that one was really not on him; Washington just had a tendency of hiring unfairly attractive people.

Alex took a long gulp of his quadruple espresso shot latte and made a valiant effort of paying attention to Lee and his ugly Excel graphs. The document Alex had open on his mac was exceptionally empty of notes, save for a snarky remark on a typo he had spotted on the slides five minutes ago, and the comment _“note to self: find a way to steal that tie and burn it”._

The latter one wasn’t even about Lee’s presentation, but about Jefferson, who was sitting at the table across from Alex looking like he wasn’t listening to the presentation, either.

It wasn’t as weird as Alex had feared it would be. Jefferson had locked eyes with him and smiled that morning, as he allowed the elevator doors to slide shut before Alex could get to them, making him slightly late from work. Just like the good old days. Nothing had particularly _changed,_ not that he had expected it to.

Washington shifted at the end of the table. He uncrossed his  _(powerful muscly stop it Alex)_  legs and leaned back, making his chair creak. Alexander shot a carefully disguised glance his way.

Jefferson had known. Alex had been too drunk and defensive and horny to really pay attention to it at the time, but now it churned anxiously at the back of his mind like a persistent headache waiting to develop into a full-blown migraine. Not only had Jefferson known there was something there, but he’d had a very good idea of what exactly it was that Alex wanted from Washington.

For the first time Alex really entertained the possibility that Washington could see it too, never mind the rest of the office. That maybe the friendly shoulder pats and the ‘son’s weren’t just Washington being oblivious, paternal and dismissive, but a wall Washington was putting between them to save them both from the embarrassment. That maybe the problem wasn’t that Washington didn’t _see_ Alex that way, but that he didn’t _want_ him that way.

Alex tapped on the space bar anxiously as the knot in his stomach turned over and over.

Washington cleared his throat. “Thank you, Charles. Any comments? Thomas?”

There was a pause and Alex just so caught Jefferson’s eyes on his face before they shifted to the front of the room.

“Ah, yes,” Jefferson cleared his throat and squinted at the screen of his laptop. “You said there’d been a decline in our revenues from the French shareholders? That figure doesn’t really add up with my people’s reports.”

“Oh,” Lee nodded in Alexander’s direction, clearly relieved he didn’t have to deal with the question, “that figure came from Hamilton.”

_Here we go._

Alex crossed his arms and shrugged. “I don’t know what to tell you, Jeffs. I can send you the paperwork if you’d like.”

Jefferson scoffed. “What I don’t get, _Hammie,_ is why that figure is being highlighted like it’s a problem. It’s almost as though someone has been trying to get rid of the French shareholders for a while now.”

Alex rolled his eyes. Jefferson and his precious France. “Numbers have no agenda,” he said sweetly. “I’m sorry if the prospect of not getting to make company-funded work trips to Paris terrifies you so much, but if this trend becomes a pattern, I really do think we should cut them loose.”

Jefferson propped his elbow over the back of the chair and leaned back. They were both seated (for now), but he somehow still managed to look down at Alex. “Oh, is that how you see it?”

Alex felt his shoulders seize up. If Jefferson could just disagree with him like a normal person, that would be one thing. Alex dealt with people disagreeing with him all the time, he could take the heat that inevitably came with thinking outside the box. It was that unstated assuredness of Alexander’s incompetence written into the relaxed, long line of Jefferson’s torso as he leaned back. The condescending dismissal in the mocking tilt of his head. Alex could climb and climb as high as he could, get every scholarship and scrape together every penny for the nicest Mulligan suits on the market, and none of it would matter. One look from Jefferson and he was a bastard immigrant again. Fresh off the boat.

In his anger Alex made the mistake of leaning in too quickly, and promptly received a sharp, painful reminder of Friday night. It was plain as day Jefferson knew exactly what it was that made Alex gasp and squeeze his eyes shut. For a moment Alex seriously contemplated sacrificing the rest of his coffee for the sake of wiping the self-satisfied smirk off his face.

Washington cleared his throat again, and Alex thought better of it. “Gentlemen. A topic as weighty as buying out shareholders will be discussed in a separate meeting,” he raised a placating hand up at Jefferson’s sound of protest, “if it ever even comes to that. Let us not get ahead of ourselves.”

That one was aimed at Alex. He rolled his shoulders back as if to reassure them of his nonchalance. He could take criticism, no matter what pretty much everyone said. It was just that getting it from Washington always got to him more than anyone else’s.

“If that was all, I think we can wrap this up for today,” Washington said and people started packing up before he even finished the sentence. Alex smiled internally - high school, college or a multimillion company, some things never changed. “I hope you’ve all made preparations for the D.C. conference in two weeks.”

A few people groaned playfully, Alex among them. Nothing like spending an extended weekend in a hotel with people you barely tolerated for 7.5 hours on working days.

Alex shot a pensive glance at Jefferson and Madison on his way out, scheming in the corner with lowered voices. If Alex’s feelings were obvious to observant eyes, Jefferson’s were perfectly disguised. The subdued gold of Madison’s engagement ring flashed at Alex as he set his hand on Jefferson’s shoulder. The other man nodded thoughtfully, clearly completely engrossed in whatever Madison was saying to him. No eyes lingering on lips, no blushing, no leaning into the platonic touch just a little bit more than was normal. Nothing.

But then, Alex still wasn’t totally convinced Jefferson actually had a heart somewhere in there.

Washington raised a silent eyebrow at Alex before he made it out of the room. He’d noticed the flinch earlier, of course he had. Alex made a dismissive hand gesture and rolled his eyes for a bit. The corner of Washington’s lip quirked up, but his eyes remained dark and penetrating. Alex knew he was off the hook for now, but still felt like a prey animal as he slinked out into the hallway. _Oh, if only._

“Fun meeting?” John grinned as Alex dropped into the free chair in his cubicle with a groan.

“You might have to sit down for this.”

“I am sitting down.”

Alex leaned his elbows on his knees and held a dramatic pause. “Jefferson was an asshole.”

John clasped a hand over his mouth with an audible smack. “No.”

“Yup. Got on my case about the France-report even though, numerically-”

John held up a hand. “I’ll just stop you right there. Let me finish typing this and we’ll get lunch, and then I’d love to hear in great detail all about how wrong he was.”

Alex snorted and raised his hands up in resignation.

John tucked a curl behind his ear absentmindedly as he typed away, and Alexander’s gaze lingered there on the crook of his neck. He’d gotten a haircut at some point. It suited him.

Truthfully, Alex could probably start fucking John if he wanted to. They were well matched enough in that regard, and John wasn’t exactly subtle about his appreciation whenever Alex wore his tightest pair of jeans. The problem was that Alex actually cared about John’s feelings.

It had taken a long time to reach this level of comfort, where they could wingman for each other no problem and talk about sex (in general terms at least) without things getting weird. John hadn’t even drunk texted him in months, except to show him memes. Out of all of his exes, Alex was glad John was the one he had actually managed to do the whole “let’s still be friends”-thing with successfully. He treasured that.

Besides, John wasn’t very good at the whole dominant-thing anyway. He could be ferocious, sure, rough even. But there was a certain uncontrollable wildness to it. It would have been good, but not what Alex needed.

The buzzing of his phone shook Alex out of his reverie.

_From: Side Hoe_

_My place at 7_

 

Wow, didn’t even bother with a question mark. Alex would have disregarded it purely out of spite if it wasn’t kind of hot.

“What are you smiling at?” John had stopped typing at some point and was now eyeing Alex with a curious smile.

Alex turned the brightness of his screen down. “Nothing.”

“You look like you’re up to no good.”

Alex smirked at his friend. “Am I ever?”

 

~~~

 

Just as Alex had feared, kissing Jefferson was fantastic even while sober. He had Alex pinned against the wall from his shoulders so he couldn’t really put up a fight for control, only open his mouth up to be devoured. Jefferson licked into Alexander’s mouth slow and dirty, a lot more methodological and relentless without the whiskey burning in his bloodstream. Alex groaned softly and rocked his hips into empty air. Jefferson pulled back and just looked at him with dark, heavy eyes as if just seeing Alex wrecked and panting was the end goal for basically fucking his mouth with his tongue. Alex hoped it wasn’t.

Out of all the possible scenarios he had expected to follow from that, being walked to the kitchen and seeing a bottle of red wine and two glasses on the dining table was not on the top of the list. There was even a small bowl of some store-bought crackers, for Christ’s sake.

“Please tell me you’re not about to wine and dine me.”

Jefferson sat down at the table and gestured at the chair on the opposite side, like they were about to have a mortgage negotiation or something. “If this is gonna become a thing, we need to lay down some ground rules,” Jefferson stated.

Alex dropped into the chair reluctantly, eyes suspiciously narrowed. “Hot.”

Jefferson rolled his eyes. “Not everything has to be about sexual gratification, believe it or not.” He unscrewed the cork of the wine and poured some out. “I’m just covering my own ass here. Would you?”

“Sure I would.” Alex crossed his arms. “Wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

Jefferson gazed at the ceiling and poured some into the other glass as well. “Try and be mature for like ten minutes, please.”

Alex pulled the glass towards himself. “What kind of rules?” Leave it to Jefferson to be a control freak about an enemies with benefits-arrangement. He should have seen this coming.

Jefferson shrugged. “Just some basic stuff that’ll enable us to avoid unnecessary mess.”

“Such as?”

“No saying other people’s names.” Jefferson took a sip and eyed Alex over the rim. “I know you’re thinking about Washington when we fuck, but that doesn’t mean that I want to be thinking about my boss when I’m buried seven inches deep into your ass.”

Alex scoffed. He thought ‘seven inches’ was a bit generous, but they were being _mature_ over here. “You think that’s bad? James is literally the name of my dad.”

“Yikes.”

“Tell me about it.”

Jefferson chewed on his lower lip. “I don’t really mind ‘sir’, though.”

Alex smirked to himself and had a tentative sip of the wine. Red wasn’t his go to, but it wasn’t too bad. “Yeah, that’s the impression I got.” Jefferson looked like he was suppressing a smile. Whether it was a shy one or a self-satisfied one was up in the air. Probably the latter.

Alex supposed he should contribute as well, or they would be here the whole day. “Rule number two: other people are free game, but we use protection with them, too.”

Jefferson nodded. “Rule three: no fucking when we’re drunk.” Alex raised an eyebrow and Jefferson made a vague hand gesture. “It’s really not a good thing to do. And if it takes being drunk for me to enjoy fucking someone, I just don’t bother.”

“That’s an interesting position considering that’s exactly what we did like three days ago.”

Alexander’s smirk was met with a glare. “That’s why this is becoming a rule, okay? I don’t usually…” Jefferson ran a frustrated hand through his hair and clearly cut himself short. “Rule four: you’re not calling me daddy, either. I’m not into that shit.”

Alex nearly spat his wine. “I’m not- firstly, how dare you assume? You don’t know shit about what I’m into.” His cheeks were burning. Damn it.

Jefferson snorted, cockiness wiping all the earlier hesitation off his face. _Prick._

Alex nearly growled. “Rule five: we can still argue off work hours, but only about sexy stuff.”

Jefferson raised an eyebrow. “Such as?”

Alex shrugged. “I don’t know. What toys you could fit into my ass. Trickle up economics.”

Another eye roll from Jefferson. “Sure. Rule six: safeword. Any suggestions?”

Oh, this was promising. “The traffic light policy usually works for me.”

Jefferson nodded. “Anything else?”

Alex chewed on his lower lip and stared into his wine glass contemplatively. There was a small tingle on his neck, close to the spot where the skin was slightly reddened, but thankfully not noticeably so after the weekend. “Seven: no marks above my collar bones. We’re not teenagers, people will see right through it if I show up to work wearing a scarf.”

“You don’t mind them _under_ your collar bones, though?” Jefferson questioned.

Alex shrugged. “Wouldn’t be able to do half of the things I want you to do to me if I did.”

Jefferson hummed. There was an unmistakable flash of hunger in the way his eyes skimmed over Alexander’s body. Alex could still taste a hint of that scorching kiss at his doorstep. “Fair enough.” Thomas played with the stem of his wine glass for a moment. “Where are we? Eight?”

“I think so.”

“No telling others. Not your BFF, not your priest-”

Alex snorted. “Well damn, there go my plans of announcing my undying love for you to the whole world,” he sneered.

Jefferson scoffed. “We both know that nothing in this world will stop you from boasting, Alexander.”

“This is nothing to boast about,” Alex insisted. “You think I want people to know I let Thomas Jefferson fuck me? My friends would never let me live it down.”

“Okay, okay,” Jefferson raised his hands up. “I’ll assure you the feeling is mutual.”

“Are we done here? Or can we get to the sex already?”

Jefferson took a purposefully long sip of wine. “No. If you want my cock at all tonight, you’re gonna have to be good and wait for it.”

Alex crossed his arms and pouted. “Well?”

Jefferson swirled the glass in his hand contemplatively. “Nine: you let me do aftercare no matter how much nonsexual human contact makes you hiss like a feral cat. I don’t want to feel shitty about myself because of your issues. Ten: at least every once in a while you stay over and sleep in my bed.”

“What-” Alex piped up.

“Reciprocity, bitch,” Thomas cut him off. “I’m nice enough to give you as many spankings as you want Washington to give you, it’s only fair you do this little thing for me.”

 _Ah._ Jefferson wanted to cuddle with Madison but couldn’t, and this was some twisted way to get Hamilton to play house with him. Alex threw his head back and groaned, but yielded nevertheless. At the end of the day, it _was_ only fair. And Jefferson would change his mind anyway once he’d find out Alex kicked in his sleep. “Eleven. As many spankings as I want.”

“Twelve,” Thomas carried on the list, “every fifth hookup or so we go to some nonsexual setting and have a talk.”

Alexander’s eyes narrowed suspiciously and Jefferson rolled his. “Don’t worry, I’m not trying to date you. In mature arrangements between adults, there’s communication.”

“And that can’t happen alongside fucking because..?”

“I know you better than you’d like to think, Hamilton,” Jefferson said. “Any sign of a serious conversation involving feelings and you either run for the hills or derail it with sex. Tell me I’m wrong.”

He wasn’t.

“Only several times a day,” Alex spat. “But fine, if it makes you feel better. I’m not having dinner with you, though. And the office is a no go.” He paused to think for a moment. “You know that scummy gas station like ten minutes away from here? The one you pass when you take the sixth avenue?”

Jefferson grimaced. “Perfect. Always wanted to know what it’s like to have hepatitis.”

“Hey, it’s your dumb rule.”

Jefferson took another long sip and Alex did the same. Payback time.

“Thirteen: condoms and lube are on you.” Jefferson looked like he was about to protest, and Alex raised up a hand. _“But,_ fourteen, I also have to wear whatever piece of harness, accessory or lingerie you get me at least once.”

Jefferson’s mouth snapped shut. He brushed his fingers over it, eyes dark and considering. “You might end up regretting that one.”

Alex smirked, leaned back and let his legs slide open. “I’d love to see you make me.”

Jefferson set his glass onto a coaster and stood up slow, like he had all the time in the world. “Fifteen: if this starts to disrupt work in any shape or form, we end it,” he said as he circled the table and stood behind Hamilton’s chair.

Alex craned his head back to look at Jefferson as he slowly slid the wine glass away from himself. “See how good I’m being?” he said, his voice soft and sweet.

Jefferson’s hands threaded through his hair, gathered strands into his palm like he was about to tie it into a ponytail. Alex set his hands onto his thighs, palms down. Jefferson bent over his shoulders. “I do.”

In a few short moments Alex was grinding into the heel of Jefferson’s palm, his breathing accelerating steadily.

“Anything else?” Jefferson’s voice rumbled by his ear. Good God.

“Rule sixteen,” Alex panted. “No bullshit.”

Thomas yanked Alexander’s head back from his hair and pushed his palm down until the pressure made Alex mewl.

“No bullshit,” Jefferson repeated.

 

~~~

 

The next morning Alex woke up to a text.

_From: Side Hoe_

_You broke rule 7 you fuck_

 

Attached was a picture of a nasty-looking, purple bruise blossoming right at the bend of Jefferson’s neck.

Alex snorted and reveled in how his muscles ached as he rolled over to get a better texting-position.

_To: Side Hoe_

_Actually, I believe the rule was that no marks are left on ME_

 

_From: Side Hoe_

_Ur not a fucking lawyer, Hamilton. And I’ll leave marks on you alright, believe that._

 

Alex rolled back onto his stomach and groaned softly. He bunched fistfuls of the sheet around his pelvis and slowly rolled his hips against the mattress. The promise of a future spanking combined with his morning wood really wasn’t looking good in terms of his prospects for making it to work on time.

This continued to be a great idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why do I make foreshadowing so goddamn laborious for myself?  
> [[Obligatory tumblr plug](https://nightshiftblues.tumblr.com/)]


	3. Rule #13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obviously you all subscribe to this programme for that sweet, sweet jeffmads angst

Was Hamilton more of a kiwi strawberry or a raspberry pomegranate kind of a guy?

Thomas frowned at himself. Why was he putting actual effort into this? Hamilton would just be glad to have a dick up his ass or down his throat no matter what he’d get, that much had been established by now.

He grabbed a bottle of lube blindly and glanced at the label before tossing it into his basket. Cinnamon vanilla. Sure.

“A fun weekend ahead?”

Thomas’ heart jumped into his throat. James had always been notoriously light on his feet for a man of his size, even when using his cane. Thomas turned and shot an awkward smile at his friend, who was looking into his basket filled with soy milk, cashews and four boxes of condoms with a raised eyebrow. And the aforementioned lube.

“There’s no reply that won’t make this even more awkward than it already is.”

James’ smile showed off the perfect pearly whites of his teeth. “I’m just glad to see you’re dating again.”

Thomas snorted to cover his discomfort. “Right.” He would be.

“So when are you introducing us to this lucky person?”

The way James said ‘us’ made Thomas crane his neck and sure enough, Dolley was idling a few isles back.

She was one of those people whose idea of ‘laid back’ was still other people’s ‘put together’; her jeans and blouse were casual but neat, and her scarf was color coordinated with her earrings. She gave Thomas a small wave. Thomas smiled and waved back. _Don’t come over, don’t come over, don’t-_

“Thomas! So good to see you!” She glided up to him, heels clicking, and they exchanged cheek kisses. Her perfume smelled like linen.

She looped her arm around James’ and slotted against his side like she was carved specifically to fit the spot. If she noticed the contents of Thomas’ shopping basket, her eyes didn’t linger. She was tactful like that. The dream partner for anyone in their field of work, always throwing dinner parties and charming everyone in the room.

“This one’s been chained to his office desk for weeks now. Maybe you could convince him to ask Washington to go easier on him,” she said and nudged James’ side playfully.

That was probably code for ‘you’re single so why don’t you take more of the workload?’ Thomas shrugged and grinned. “Everyone’s kind of overworked right now because of the conference. You’ll get your husband back after that hostage situation is over, I promise.”

Dolley sighed. “Sure hope so.”

Thomas nodded at James’ cane with a concerned frown. “Your leg giving you trouble again?” James didn’t need the cane most of the time. He only used it occasionally because, as he would sometimes say, ‘his body hated him’.

James sighed and shrugged. “It’s fine. My doctor’s prescribing me new meds as soon as I manage to see her.”

“I could give you a ride back,” Thomas offered. They lived only about ten minutes away so they usually walked to the grocery store.

“It’s alright, we’re seeing Dolley’s aunt after this so we’re driving.”

 _Thank God._ Thomas decided it was about time to skedaddle. He had no particular desire to find out what the Madison Paynes were doing on the family planning isle of Whole Foods. “I should get going too, got some errands to run. See you at work, James. Lovely seeing you, Dolley.”

They exchanged brief hugs and there was a playful twinkle in James’ dark eyes as he complimented Thomas’ Burberry scarf. It was carefully and securely wrapped around his neck, covering the hickey that was turning an ugly shade of yellow now. _Fucking Hamilton._

Thomas slammed his car door, gripped the steering wheel with both hands and inhaled deeply.

It wasn’t as though interacting with them was particularly painful. He’d had plenty of practice, it didn’t feel like swallowing packets upon packets of sawdust anymore. He’d just been unprepared to deal with it in that moment, too engrossed in thinking about all the positions he was gonna fuck Hamilton in in the near future.

Thomas chewed on his lower lip, his phone suddenly heavy in his pocket. He could text Hamilton. Reschedule for today. Have a quickie.

He rolled his eyes at himself as soon as the thought crossed his mind. Unlike _some people,_ Thomas didn’t deal with his emotional problems by getting his dick wet.

Besides, it wasn’t like Thomas was picturing James in Hamilton’s place when they were fucking. Which, admittedly, would have been challenging even if he’d wanted to; Hamilton was lean and pale and loud, all things James was the polar opposite of.

Frankly, Jefferson hadn’t been planning on fucking Hamilton again after that night. He’d been quite content in letting it become one of those drinking stories so awkward they didn’t even make for funny anecdotes.

But of course it wasn’t that simple. Something had changed irreversibly that night, and when Hamilton had opened his stupid mouth in the board meeting, Thomas had suddenly been unable to shake the notion that he could make him forget his own damn name if he wanted to. That for every tedious minute he was forced to listen to Hamilton’s spiels, he could make him pay for later. Make him beg.

It was a petty, warped revelation and also the best distraction of the miserable heartache-laden shitshow that was his existence to date. Thomas may have been the sole resident and mayor of Pathetically Pining After James-ville, going on his third term now, but at least now he had something other to look forward to during the weekends than looking at the pictures from his and James’ college days, sighing wistfully, and jacking off (not at the same time).

Thomas shook his head and finally started the engine. No, better not give Hamilton any ideas about Thomas needing this thing of theirs as much as Hamilton did. There would be plenty of time to get distracted over the weekend.

 

~~~

 

_Thomas was shivering, covered in snow that was rapidly melting into his hair and turning his coat damp. Despite of this, his slightly frostbitten cheeks were sore from smirking all morning._

_He slipped into the dorm building as gracefully as he could balancing two cups of takeout coffee in one hand, and a paper bag in the other. A cheese and onion bake for him, and a gluten-free sausage roll for James._

_Not for the first time that morning, Thomas had to resist touching his lips absentmindedly like he was the heroine of some cheesy romcom._

_He couldn’t taste James’ grapefruit chapstick on his lips anymore. He wished he could; that would have helped consolidate the fact that this was real, that this was finally happening. Maybe leaving had been a mistake, maybe he should have stayed in the cocoon of the blankets away from the freezing world as long as he could. Listening to the sound of James’ heartbeat until it felt as familiar as his own._

_Droplets of melted snow went flying as Thomas shook his head to himself. There would be time. Time for all the dates he’d denied even to himself imagining all this time, time for ones that wouldn’t have occurred to him in a million pining-filled years. He would just blow it by acting too clingy from the get go._

_It took a while to wrestle the door open, but once he did he was greeted by James sitting cross-legged on his bed. In retrospect, it was kind of a wonder they’d both fit in as comfortably all night as they had._

_“You’re back.” James’ voice was still raspy from sleep._

_Jefferson smiled and presented the coffee and bakes he’d gotten. “I got breakfast.”_

_“Sweet, thanks.”_

_They sat on the bed side by side, knees touching. Thomas had managed to resist kissing James again for a full five minutes now._

_“Hey man, listen,” James directed his words to the opposite wall after taking a long swig of his coffee. “I wanted to say I’m sorry. About last night.”_

_Thomas’s hand paused halfway to his mouth. “Sorry?” He must have meant coming to Thomas’ room so late at night. The ominous churn at the pit of Thomas’ stomach disagreed._

_James shuffled so that he was facing Thomas. He set a hand on his knee carefully._

_“I was angry and upset about Sarah leaving me, and I just,” James chewed on his lower lip. He seemed hesitant, but he was no coward so he kept his eyes trained on Thomas’ face, serious and steady. “I wasn’t thinking straight.”_

_Thomas finally managed so swallow down the mush of pastry sitting in his mouth. “You don’t have to apologize, James.” At first talking was like trying to force flower petals to fall out of his mouth at will, but then the words started to cascade off his tongue in a steadily accelerating flow. “Listen, I know this isn’t what either of us expected. Hell, I thought you were straight this whole time if I’m being honest, sorry for assuming by the way. And if it’s, if it’s sex that you’re worried about it can wait, we don’t have to-”_

_“Thomas.”_

_Thomas bit his tongue and his throat was a solid block of marble again._

_“I knew how you felt, and I kissed you anyway. It was wrong.” James enunciated each word carefully like he was speaking a language Thomas was in danger of not understanding._

_Maybe he was._

_James thought that what had happened was wrong. That secret moment in the dark when he stopped talking and his lips pushed against Thomas’ and he forgot how to breathe because his autonomic nervous system was too busy making his heart burst out of his chest. Wrong._

_He couldn’t cry. Thomas was unbelievably lucky that he got to be friends with someone like James and he couldn’t cry. Not now._

_He cleared his throat and shifted so that his knee fell from under James’ wide palm. “It’s alright. I get it.”_

_And because James was the best friend Thomas could ever hope to have, he turned to face the opposing wall as well. They ate breakfast in oppressive silence._

_Even as his heart was getting slowly ripped into tiny shreds, it kept whispering in a hopeful tone. That no matter how hard James was backpedaling now, they had kissed. That Thomas’ hadn’t imagined it when he’d thought there was_ something _there. That maybe, eventually, James would see it too, if Thomas just stuck around as he burned through a disposable girlfriend after another. None of them ever lasted anyway._

_James and his endless stream of temporary girlfriends._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m really sorry if reading a big chunk of italicized text is a pain, flashbacks won’t be a current occurrence in this fic I promise.
> 
> Whole Foods actually does sell cinnamon vanilla lube. #research
> 
> [[Obligatory tumblr plug](https://nightshiftblues.tumblr.com/)]


	4. Rule #12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God it feels weird to update several times a week. From now on it'll prolly be once a week.  
> !! See the end note for a mild trigger warning that doubles as a spoiler !!

Hamilton dropped into the booth, opposite from Thomas, a pair of store-brand sunglasses dangling on the bridge of his nose and grogginess written into every aspect of his body language. “Sorry I’m late, I didn’t wanna come.”

Thomas rolled his eyes. “It’s one o’clock in the afternoon, why do you look like you crawled out of a hole in the ground ten seconds ago?”

Hamilton rubbed at his forehead with exasperation. “There, the mandatory greeting-insults are done with. Can I please get some coffee into me now?”

“I ordered us already.”

As though out of some mutual silent agreement, no further words were exchanged until Hamilton had gulped down a cupful and flagged the waitress for a refill. Thomas, in his part, took one sip and grimaced. It tasted like the brown sludge had been sitting in the pot for hours, if not days.

Not that anyone would come to a place like this for fresh artisan coffee. The gas-station-slash-diner wasn’t as filthy as Thomas had initially feared, but it still had the general air of the type of a place where runaway teens agreed to hitchhike to a different state with random truck drivers, never to be seen again.

Hamilton at least seemed to fit right in with his messy bun and ancient Colombia hoodie. Thomas wondered idly what it was that had kept him up so late last night. Work? The second season of Jessica Jones? A hookup?

“You’re staring.”

Thomas blinked and shrugged. “Just trying to figure out if those are bags under your eyes or if someone punched you in the face twice.”

Hamilton closed his eyes and pushed the shades up on top of his head. “Washington wanted me to do a talk about the financial department’s incorporation of emerging technologies at the conference and _obviously_ I’ve had it ready for like a month now, but last night I looked at it and I thought I could- why am I telling you this? You don’t care.” He set the emptied cup onto the table with a clumsy thud. “So. Here we are.”

“Here we are,” Thomas agreed. Hamilton crossed his arms and looked at him expectantly. Thomas sighed. “C’mon, communication. We can do this. Anything about this arrangement you’re not liking so far?”

Alex shrugged. “Could do with some more fucking and fewer heart to hearts.”

Thomas pinched the bridge of his nose and inhaled deeply. “Would it _kill_ you to not be a colossal slut for like two minutes?”

Hamilton leaned over the table with narrowed eyes. “Ooh slutshaming, that’s real progressive of you, Thomas.”

“Using a paper-thin veneer of social justice to justify your immaturity, that’s real typical of you, Alexander.”

Alex grimaced in a way Thomas deemed decidedly unattractive. “God, I can hear the Reddit in the way you say ‘social justice’. I think I’m gonna barf.”

Thomas crossed his arms and leaned back into the greasy seat. “Is this what you consider a ‘sexy’ topic to fight about, Alexander?”

“Stop saying my name like that,” Alex snapped and Thomas raised an eyebrow. “And no I don’t, but you’re special like that, I just can’t help myself. Must be a gift.”

Thomas snorted and a tense silence settled over them for a few minutes.

Instead of getting up and stomping out like a petulant child, which was what Thomas had been fully expecting, Hamilton glanced around the near-empty diner and shuffled closer until his knee bumped against Thomas’.

“Maybe I am a slut,” he said, leaning in, his voice a low purr, “but we both know that that’s an aspect of my personality you don’t have any particular qualms with.” Hamilton’s palm landed on Thomas’ knee.

Thomas’ eyes flickered to the hand on his knee, and then back to Hamilton’s face. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Hamilton’s Pepsodent toothpaste and coffee-smelling breath was warm against his jawline as he spoke, just an inch or two away now: “Pretty sure I’m still loosened up from fingering myself this morning, you know.”

Thomas swallowed, glanced around as well to make sure none of the waiters were at a hearing range. “Pretty sure you’re not supposed to admit to masturbating when you’re late from a meeting,” he hissed. “Especially when you didn’t even bother to brush your hair before showing up.”

Hamilton hummed. Thomas caught his wrist before his hand traveled too far up his thigh. “For fuck’s sake.” An unwelcome shock of excitement zapped through his body as a response to the way Hamilton’s pupils dilated from the harsh grip on his lithe wrist. Thomas gritted his teeth and ignored it - the whole point of these meetings was to _talk_ without it being a sex-related power play. “I’m not fucking you in a filthy gas station bathroom.”

Hamilton’s lips stretched into that wild tomcat-grin Thomas had seen in action plenty of times before, but never directed at him. “No?”

 

~~~

 

“This - is - not - how - this was - supposed - to work,” Thomas grunted between thrusts, each of which shoved Hamilton harshly against the back seat of his car. Thank God for darkened windows.

They were parked at the back of some long since abandoned Chinese joint, the hum of New York traffic audible, but thankfully distant. Thomas grabbed a fistful of Hamilton’s hair and pulled to get a better angle, eliciting a needy whine. Frankly, he should have just fucked the guy in the gas station bathroom; this setting hardly counted as an upgrade.

“Such a hussy,” he said, his voice husky as Hamilton braced his hands against the leather of the seat to get a better leverage at pushing back to meet Thomas’ thrusts. “Can’t go for ten minutes without begging for a cock up your ass?” The blush at the back of Hamilton’s neck deepened.

What a funny contrast it was. Call him a bastard at the office and the guy wasn’t above throwing staplers, but in bed it was a whole different story altogether. It hadn’t taken Thomas long to figure out Hamilton was into this degradation-stuff. Loved hearing just how vile and dirty he was.

“No sir,” he whined, all perfect and hot and tight around Thomas’ dick. When all was said and done, Alexander’s ass was first rate, firm and round and obviously experienced. Thomas could feel beads of sweat forming at his hairline and detached one hand from Hamilton’s hip to swipe an arm across his forehead.

He snorted. “No? You’re not a cock-hungry, good for nothing slut? That what you’re saying?”

“No, I-” Thomas found a particularly good angle and Hamilton half-moaned, half-sobbed. His lean thighs quivered and his spine was bending into that pretty slope Thomas was becoming particularly fond of. “I am, I am!”

“Damn right you are,” Thomas grunted. His hand clamped down on the back of Hamilton’s neck and pinned him face-first into the car seat. “Getting fucked out in the open like this, it’s almost like you want the whole world to know what a dirty bitch you are. Why, I oughta have you at the office sometime, since you’re so desperate for it.”

It that moment it was quite clear this was a scenario they had both thought about at some point. Or several points. Hamilton was moaning with every thrust now, absolutely wrecked. He didn’t bother pushing back at Thomas anymore, just spread his legs as much as he could in the confined space and took it. Jefferson’s own breathing was getting heavier and heavier.

“You’d end up crying and moaning, wouldn’t you, _Alexander,_ and then everyone would know how badly you need it.”

“Oh, God,” Alex moaned.

Thomas could tell he was getting close. The windows of the car were fogging up and the only thing overpowering the sound of skin slapping on skin at an ever increasing pace was Hamilton’s panting and moaning. Thomas let his head fall back and grunted. “Don’t even think about messing up my car seat or I swear to God, Alex-”

He didn’t even finish the sentence before Hamilton clenched down in a way that made Thomas’ eyes roll back into his skull - and came with a loud sob and a moan.

The cleaning bill alone would have been enough to kill Thomas’ erection had Hamilton’s habit of coming just from being fucked hard and mercilessly been so goddamn hot. A few more snaps of his hips and Thomas was coming as well, buried deep inside Alex and fingertips implanting bruises into his hip and the back of his neck.

Thomas kept thrusting lazily into the whimpering mess underneath him until he was fully spent, and then pulled out and slumped back against the car seat. “Fucking hell.”

Hamilton peeled himself off the leather of the seat slowly, and started tying his hair into a messy bun, the slender slope of his back turned to Thomas. “You got tissues somewhere?”

“The glove compartment,” Thomas muttered. “I’m seriously sending you the cleaning bill.”

Hamilton snorted. “Right.”

As soon as he was dressed, Hamilton yanked the car door open.

“Hey,” the man stilled as Thomas set a hand on his shoulder. “You’re in my car already. I’ll drive you.”

Hamilton glanced at Thomas over his shoulder, an unreadable expression on his face. “Oh, you’re driving me alright. I just didn’t feel like climbing over the stick shift to the front seat.”

Thomas’ hand fell. “Right.”

 

~~~

 

He probably would have noticed it a lot earlier had he not been, for the lack of a better word, distracted lately. If it wasn’t for Hamilton and his snappy mouth and mischievous eyes and the little flinches that betrayed soreness when he moved, Thomas probably would have seen that something was up with James a lot earlier than he did.

As it were, Thomas noticed it when he walked into his friend’s office and found him pouring orange juice into his coffee.

Thomas leaned on the doorway, arms crossed, and cleared his throat. “I’m sure there are better ways of getting your daily dose of vitamin C.”

“Hm?” James looked up from his phone. His eyes were aimed at Thomas’ general direction, but remained glazed over.

“That’s orange juice, James.”

“Huh?” James looked at his hands, just in time to see the last drop of his juice fall into his coffee cup, which was filled to the very brim. “Oh, shit.”

Thomas would have laughed had it not been so disconcerting to see a man as controlled and poised as James acting like he was suffering from early onset dementia. “Did your doctor hook you up with medical marijuana or something?”

James pushed the disgusting beverage towards the edge of the desk and sighed. He then gazed into the middle distance with a contemplative frown while Thomas waited patiently, and nodded to himself. “Close the door.”

Thomas did, worry and apprehension slowly gathering in his chest. He sat down and propped an ankle on his knee, feigning nonchalance. “Well?”

James drummed on his desk restlessly. Another very uncharacteristic mannerism.

“I am going to have to ask for extra hours,” he said slowly. “As many as I can get. And then I’ll need to take leave.”

 _He has cancer,_ some irrational voice in Thomas’ head concluded. Or was it? Wouldn’t it be just like James to work as much as he could so as to not saddle his family with medical expenses? His family should have the funds for treatment though; James came from old money same as Thomas. “What,” Thomas finally found his voice, “what for?”

James’s face melted into a tender, somewhat disbelieving smile. He leaned into his hands and huffed in a laugh-like manner. “Listen, you’ll have to keep a lid on this. I know you’re not supposed to tell anyone for like a few months,” he told Thomas from between his fingers.

Thomas nodded weakly.

“Dolley’s pregnant.”

Wait. Thomas blinked twice and his brain seemed to stutter into a halt.

There were tears in James’ eyes now. “I’m gonna be a daddy!”

“Oh.” Thomas realized how boneless his voice was and inhaled sharply. “James, that’s amazing. Congratulations!”

Soon they were out of their seats and embracing each other clumsily. The musk of James’ cologne filled Thomas’ nostrils as he patted his friend’s back affectionately.

Happy. He was _happy_ for his best friend. How could he not be when James was right there clinging to Thomas’ arms, laughing and breathless and slightly bashful, wiping tears from the corners of his eyes?

James grinned up at Thomas in such an unguarded way he hadn’t done in years, and straightened out his coat lapels. “You’ll be the baby’s godfather, won’t you, Thomas?”

Thomas smiled. “It would be an honor.”

Then James’ phone was ringing and he was gushing with Dolley in a slightly hushed, gentle tone and Thomas was politely ducking out of the office.

For a moment his feet were heavy and stiff like two signposts struck into frozen earth, and then they were carrying him down the hallway with a determination that made the stray interns on his path part like the Red Sea. James’ deliriously happy laughter played in a loop in Thomas’ head as he scoured an office after another with reckless, impatient determination.

Where the hell was Hamilton?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: pregnancy. Dolley’s, that is. Henceforth it’s gonna be a thing that kinda looms in the background but won’t be discussed in detail, i. e. it’s a plot/character device, but not really a theme.
> 
> [[Obligatory tumblr plug](https://nightshiftblues.tumblr.com/)]


	5. Rule #15

Alex didn’t _gag._ He never _gagged,_ that had been his personal point of pride since senior year of college. He knew all the tricks like the back of his hand, knew how to relax his throat as if the offending object at the back of it was made to be there. If anything, he sometimes gagged on purpose when he knew it would turn a guy on, to think they were _sooo big_  that the great Alexander Hamilton couldn’t handle it.

Anyway. Alex could have squeezed his left thumb so hard it came off and it wouldn’t have made a difference; his throat seized up and elicited an undignified sputtering noise, again and again, as Jefferson fucked his mouth in the cleaning supply closet of floor three.

Maybe relaxing his throat and breathing steadily through his nose would have been easier had he not been so achingly hard it bordered on painful. It was the novelty of it, probably, not that Alex had become particularly seasoned in the art of sleeping with the enemy over the past couple of weeks he and Jefferson had been hooking up.

Still, this felt different. This wasn’t Jefferson slow and meticulous and guarded; there was a brand new element of urgency and detachment to the way he had dragged Alex into this closet and pushed him down on his knees. There had been no coaxing, no stroking hands making him ache and cry and beg for it. This clearly wasn’t about _him,_ as much as it was about Jefferson using the closest and most convenient method of finding relief available to him. Alex whined pathetically and gagged again, his labored breathing and little moans hopefully not audible on the hallway.

Jefferson was silent save for a quiet grunt here and there. Of course, the man wasn’t much of a moaner to begin with (Alex was happy to do that for the both of them), but usually there would have been some barbed jabs at least, some reminders that Alex was the scum of the Earth and all that. The usual sweet talk. The only light coming into the supply closet was from under the door since no one had bothered to fix a light in there, so Alex couldn’t have a look at his face, gauge at his expression. See if Jefferson was getting off on how much he was struggling to take his full length and girth.

He squeezed his eyes shut and a few tears rolled down his cheeks to add to the mess that was his face. Whatever. Alex didn’t need to see, to know he was just a tool right now. Jefferson’s other hand pushed down on his shoulder like it was the handlebar of a bike. Purposeful. His scent and taste overwhelmed Alexander’s perceptual capacities, there was spit dripping down his chin and his scalp stung with the iron grip Jefferson had on his hair. He was drowning in Jefferson while the other man seemed barely aware he was there (Alexander the Person, rather than Alexander the Mouth). And Lord if that thought didn’t make him dig the nail of his left thumb into his palm, this time to keep him from coming into his pants rather than from gagging.

Coming just from Jefferson’s cock was one thing, but creaming his pants just from a dick down his throat was on a level of pathetic even Alex in all his self-aware debauchery wouldn’t be able to live down.

The hand in his hair twisted and Alex forced his eyes open, not that it helped much what with the darkness and the tears. Jefferson released his hold on Alexander’s shoulder in favor of grabbing the flimsy towel rack. It rattled against the wall. That was all the warning Alex got before there was a rush of pulsing warmth at the back of his throat canal. Jefferson made a move to pull back and Alex finally put his foot down - or rather put his hands on Jefferson’s hips and held him there, fingers digging into the flesh of his pelvis, until every last drop had been wrung out and the man wrenched Hamilton off his dick with a sharp hiss and a moist pop.

Alex fell back on his calves and for a moment there was nothing but their labored breathing and the thick scent of sex hanging in the air between them.

The hand in Alexander’s hair finally yielded and gave the top of his head the kind of a pat you would give to a cat that has a tendency to bite.

“Thanks.”

Alex blinked at the blinding light that briefly assaulted his senses as Jefferson wrenched the door open and strode out. He’d somehow totally missed the part where the guy had zipped his pants up again and made himself look office-appropriate. Alexander’s mind was in a hazy sort of a state, it was difficult to keep track of all the things going on in this closet.

_What the fuck was that?_

In that moment of silent reflection Alexander’s fried brain caught up to the reality that he was slumped on his knees in the cleaning supply closet of floor three, achingly hard and cum dripping down the side of his mouth, a business lunch with an executive of a sister company approaching rapidly. Or was it supposed to be happening already? Alex barked out a slightly delirious laugh as his eyes landed on an industrial-size bottle of bleach. _If only I could take that shit to my soul._

It would be a short walk into the privacy of his office (three corridors and two sets of stairs) and, statistically, the likelihood of someone walking into the closet increased with every moment Alex sat there reflecting on his life choices. Following this logic, he slipped out into the hallway as nimbly as he could with his half cooked spaghetti-like limbs - and walked straight into a broad, designer suit-clad wall of muscle.

“Ah, Hamilton.” Washington’s tone was casual. He didn’t even rock back on his heels from the impact, while Alex staggered back a good half-step, air plummeting out of his lungs. “Good, I was actually looking-”

Usually Washington’s mask was downright impenetrable, but now of all times Hamilton could, with sharpshooter accuracy, pinpoint the exact millisecond his boss realized he had been fucked within the past minute or so. Time almost seemed to slow into a crawl as Washington mid-sentence, mid-word took in Alexander’s haphazard attempt at a ponytail, his swollen lips, reddened cheeks and crumpled shirt collar. Hell, he probably smelled the semen on him right then and there, too.

Alexander froze in helpless mortification, mentally counting the exits as his eyes fixated on the stiffening line of the corner of Washington’s mouth. He couldn’t bring himself to look his boss in the eye. It would be downright miraculous if he ever could again.

Washington cleared his throat and his hand fell from Alexander’s elbow. His Adam’s apple bobbed slowly, up, and down, the deep red of his tie complementing the dark complexion of his skin. “In fact, I think it can wait. Why don’t you, uh, go freshen up, son.”

And just like that the broad line of Washington’s back was disappearing behind a corner and Alex was left alone with his frantically beating heart and accelerating breath. He started blindly down the hallway with quick, jerky steps.

Alexander’s gut had always been bad at telling shame and desire apart - that was the problem. While being fired for breaking the code of professional conduct _should_ have been the top priority on his mind as he stumbled into the general direction of the rarely used men’s room, all he could do was mentally conjure up an image of what he must have looked like through Washington’s eyes. His hair a mess, pupils dilated and clothes barely in place. All proof of how rough he liked it, indication of how willing Alex was to be pinned against a towel rack at a moment’s notice.

Was he repulsed? Appalled? Fascinated?

Alex knew it wasn’t real, but that didn’t stop him from picturing Washington locked into his office right now, his hand wrapped around his cock, face scrunched up in furious concentration and Alexander’s name clenched between his teeth. Fuck.

He stumbled into the men’s room blindly, barely had the state of mind to check the other stalls were empty before locking himself into one. He fell onto the seat and undid his belt buckle with trembling fingers, shifted his jaw so that he could feel it ache from how open Jefferson’s cock had wrenched it, and thought of Washington bending him over his knee for being bad.

Those images kept superimposing on each other as Alex wrapped a hand around his aching, already copiously leaking dick. Washington bending him over his table. Jefferson fucking his fluttering throat raw like he owned it. Jefferson and Washington-

 _No,_ Alex chastised himself even as the cock in his hand twitched at the thought, _don’t bring them into the same room, they’ll eat you alive._

He let his head fall back against the tiles and whined helplessly.

 

~~~

 

The problem with Aaron Burr was that when the man wasn’t actively falling on his ass (which, admittedly, was pretty often), he was eerily light on his feet. This was a bad combination with his near-supernatural ability to ambush anyone who was trying to avoid him around some corner.

“Hamilton,” he called out, after Alex tried to do a smooth U-turn in to the opposite direction on the corridor. “Delightful to see you here, can I borrow you just for a minute?” That was Burr for _‘I saw you, brat, and you have exactly three seconds to get your ass over here’._

Alex glanced over his shoulder as if he hadn’t seen Burr as he suddenly decided he had some urgent matter to attend to in the opposite direction, and smiled sheepishly. Burr only glanced at the ceiling and jerked his head towards an empty office.

“Were the hell were you?” he hissed, the amicable co-worker façade dropping immediately as soon as they were alone in the room. “You left me to deal with Schuyler all by myself, I had to fabricate some bullshit story about a family emergency so we wouldn’t look unprofessional.”

Alex dug his hands into his pockets and rocked on the balls of his feet. Not only did the shame of neglecting his work churn uncomfortably under his skin, but he knew there was no saving this interaction. He and Burr only really got along when they were flirting, and somehow he couldn’t see the conversation working out that way. Even if Burr was standing distractingly close, backing him against the door.

“Look,” Alex’s voice cracked and forced him to clear his throat a few times. “Schuyler dislikes me anyway because of the thing with his daughter. I doubt he missed me. I’ll make it up to you, I swear.”

Burr’s eyes narrowed and he took the liberty of stepping even closer to Alex, his gaze skimming over his appearance carefully. His handsome facial features scrunched up in some mixture of annoyance and worry. “Are you sick?”

Suddenly Alex felt cornered not only physically, but mentally as well. In one hand, Aaron thinking his cracking voice, disappearance act and dishelmed appearance were due to an illness was _vastly_ better than the alternative. And Burr absolutely would figure out the truth, like Washington had, if Alex gave him even a slim chance at it. There was no doubt about that. In the other hand-

“Alexander,” Burr shook his head in that exasperated parent-way that Alex just despised. “How many times do you need to be given this lecture? I know you don’t like missing work, but not spreading germs and looking after your health is for the common good.”

Alex channeled his annoyance at the condescending holier-than-thou tone of Aaron’s voice towards looking like he’d been caught out. “I’m perfectly capable of doing my damn job, thank you very much,” he muttered. His voice came out perfectly raspy and hushed. He deserved a damn Academy award for the performance, one he should admittedly probably dedicate to Jefferson’s dick.

“Alexander, please,” Burr sighed. He really had a knack for saying Alexander’s full first name when he got going like this. Alex’s shoulders shot up to his ears when Burr’s cool palm landed on his forehead. “Your face is red and hot. You need to take the evening off.”

Alex skipped to the side, away from his colleague’s reach. “Don’t act like you’re my damn boss,” he hissed.

Aaron cocked a brow, a hand resting on his hip. “Would you prefer I drag you to Washington’s office right now and have him send you home, instead?”

Oh, wow. Spending so much time around Jefferson must have desensitized Hamilton to how much despising-potential he had for other people. What a welcome reminder. Burr had only gotten more and more of a pain in his neck since Alex was promoted over him.

“You can feel free to take out your hand sanitizer now,” Alex growled and made for the door, “I won’t be offended.”

“Great,” Aaron smiled and pulled the little bottle out of his breast pocket. “Would you like some?”

A few hours later Alexander’s inbox was graced with an email from Washington; an attachment of some reports he could look over at home, which he was eternally grateful for, and a polite suggestion he should take the next day off, too.

Alex flung a decorative pillow across his living room. It thumped unsatisfyingly against a palm tree he’d gotten from Herc as a housewarming gift, didn’t even knock the frail thing over.

Washington didn’t even want to look at him anymore. Alex supposed he should consider himself lucky that was the extent of it.

Mysteriously, lucky was not the feeling lingering in his chest as he wrenched his laptop open and started to pore over the reports.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you guys didn't know, your comments fuel me on this bitch of an earth.
> 
> [[Obligatory tumblr plug](https://nightshiftblues.tumblr.com/)]


	6. Rule #9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Local Idiots Fail at Connecting Emotionally: the Fanfic

Sometimes Alex almost forgot about John’s affluent background thanks to his down to earth personality and the distant, complicated bonds with his family. But boy was he reminded about if every time he let John choose where they should get lunch.

Alex frowned at the menu like it had personally offended his ancestors. _$15 for a lentil soup, seriously?_ This was going to be John’s treat. He tossed the menu on the tablecloth and had a sip of water, tilted one of the ice cubes into his mouth and felt it crunch between his teeth. The tables around him were filled with ongoing business lunches and gossiping trophy wives openly sipping cocktails regardless of the time of the day. Nothing interesting enough to listen in on. It almost made him miss the shabby gas station-diner.

Almost.

There was a flurry of approaching movement in the periphery of Alexander’s field of vision. He turned towards it and blinked in startlement as a pair of soft lips bumped against his.

It had been awhile since he last saw John’s freckles this up close. His friend pulled back, hand propped on the back of his chair, something like numb mortification on his face. Then he straightened up and cleared his throat. After a few beats of confused silence, John circled the table and dropped into his chair.

Alex was quicker to recover. He leaned back and smirked. “Why, Laurens-”

“Shut up,” John snapped. Alex had forgotten how cute he was when he blushed scarlet. “I was aiming for your cheek, but you moved really quickly. You’re like a snake.”

“Well, if you wanted a piece of this, all you needed to do was ask,” Alex teased, wiggling his eyebrows.

John groaned into his hands. “Have you ordered yet?”

“Nah.” Alex propped an ankle on his knee and stretched his arms out lazily. “I thought I’d let you order for us since you’ll be paying.”

John rolled his eyes, but picked up the menu. “Freeloader.”

Alex knew John didn’t mean it, so he ignored the flare of indignation in his chest. He hated how thin-skinned he could be at times, about certain things.

“Damn, avocado dip costs extra,” John muttered at the menu.

“You know we have a perfectly good canteen in the office building, right?” Alex pointed out. He swirled the melted remnants of the ice cube on his tongue.

“I thought we could use a break from our beloved colleagues while we can,” John muttered. Alex couldn’t argue; the conference came with catered meals, all shared with their co-workers of course.

“Any idea who’s been pissing into Jefferson’s morning cereals lately?” John asked the menu. Alex was glad the laminated pieces of paper were working as a visual barrier between them. “I know you’re always bitching about him, but lately he’s been a real dick.”

He wasn’t wrong. Jefferson had been acting odd as of late, like the slimy, careless aspect of his usual asshole-demeanor had been turned off. Stomping the hallways and snapping at anyone slow or stupid enough to get in his way whenever he wasn’t cooped up in his office. Scaring interns and picking fights over footnotes. His mood appeared perpetually sour nowadays.

Alex should know. He shifted slightly on his chair, and there was a twinge of pain where his belt dug into the bruises on his hips.

“How the fuck would I know?” Alex shrugged. “I don’t make a habit of associating with the guy.”

“Really?” John was peering at him over the edge of the menu now, eyes sharp and playful. “‘Cause you do make a habit of picking fights with him. This should be ideal for you.”

The cold of the melted ice cube on Alexander’s tongue was contrasted by the tinge of warmth on his cheeks. He blinked innocently.

“Who, me? Never.”

 

~~~

 

“Is this what you wanted?” Jefferson grunted and nudged his hips so that Alexander’s lips hit the base of his cock. “If I’d known all along that _this_ was your goal whenever you got pissy about some notes on your report, we could have put those differences behind us a long time ago.”

It was slightly cramped in the space under Jefferson’s enclosed office desk, but it was worth it, seeing him from this angle, sitting in his dumb swivel chair with his knees wide apart and those dark cold eyes measuring Alex up like he wasn’t totally sure his mouth would be worth the distraction. Alex curled his tongue around the base and made Jefferson’s mind up for him.

Sure enough, Jefferson’s head fell back and the hand that always inevitably found its way into Alexander’s hair twitched and tightened. Alex let his eyes fall shut. Jefferson’s pubes tickled his nose and his throat fluttered at the intrusion, but he was in control this time around (more so than in the cleaning supply closet, anyway). He would make this good.

Alex relaxed his throat the best he could, traced the vein at the bottom of Jefferson’s dick with the flat of his tongue as he withdrew slowly. He hummed quietly as he worked around the tip in circles, lapping at the folds of pre-skin and sucking sharply as soon as he tasted the first dollop of Jefferson’s desire. Jefferson must have been feeling a lot nicer than he appeared barking at the secretaries on the hallways, since he let his head fall back and made a choked sound of overwhelmed approval. “Shit, Alex-”

Four things happened within the span of a few short seconds: Alex dove in and took Jefferson’s entire length back into his mouth, there was a brief knock on the door, Alex realized he may have forgotten to lock the door (in this defense, he didn’t come into Jefferson’s office with the express intention of sucking his cock), and the door slid open with a soft click.

With the amount of drool pooling in Alexander’s mouth, pulling off would have made a loud squelching sound, and that was assuming he would manage not to gag or cough. Jefferson, clearly reaching the same conclusion, set a hand on top of his head as if to calm him, clearly more worried about the skin of his own ass than Alexander’s. He would have rolled his eyes had they not been squeezed tightly shut in the interest of not dying of embarrassment.

“Thomas, do you have a moment?” said a deep, friendly voice and yup, Alex was in Hell where he belonged.

“Uhh,” Jefferson said, his voice slightly thick from arousal. “Sure.” _Seriously?_ Alex would have honest to God bitten down had it not definitely given him away.

Washington sat down and there was a thud as a stack of documents landed on the desk. “I would appreciate a second opinion on these,” he said. Alex suppressed a twinge of jealousy in his chest because why was Jefferson more qualified to look at the documents, hadn’t Hamilton proven himself enough? Wasn’t everything supposed to go through him first? Now was probably not the time to wallow over it.

Jefferson leaned forward to pick up the stack, slowly to give Alex ample warning about the further stress on his already hardworking throat. The first tears rolled down his cheeks, and there was spit dripping down his chin, hopefully landing on Jefferson’s stupid mink leather shoes.

Alex tuned out the conversation unfolding above him and focused on the positives. The audible strain in Jefferson’s voice as he tried to come up with something insightful while his still very much erect cock pulsed in Alexander’s mouth. The fact that the window behind Jefferson was cracked open so Washington probably couldn’t smell the sex occurring less than a feet away from him.

He also did his best to ignore the pulsing hardness between his own legs because Alex was, as it were, the worst.

Washington seemed to pick up on Jefferson’s discomfort eventually, as he cleared his throat, reached for the papers (another leaning in on Jefferson’s part, this time around a lot quicker and without warning), and stood up. Tears streamed freely down Alexander’s cheeks as he fought against sputtering.

“Well, I don’t want to keep you on a Friday night,” Washington said. Warm. Professional.

“It’s no trouble at all, sir,” Jefferson replied. Alex could hear the pleasant smile in his voice.

A few steps towards the door. “Oh, have you seen Hamilton?”

“I think he went home already.”

“Oh.” Alex didn’t blame his boss for sounding perplexed. “Well, I’m sure it can wait until tomorrow.”

“Probably has his hands full with the conference stuff.”

Alex released the death grip he didn’t realize he’d been holding on Jefferson’s calves and flipped him off instead.

The door finally, finally clicked shut and Jefferson moved to roll back - only for Alex to grab the ends of his opened belt, keeping him there with an iron grip.

“Huh?”

Maybe it was the subspace talking, but Alex wasn’t ready to let go of the buzzing numbness in his head just yet. To face the reality of what just happened, that Washington had been in the same room as he had his mouth stuffed with cock. Focusing on the ache of his jaw, the pain on his knees and the singularity of the task before him was a vastly preferable option to that.

Jefferson snorted. “You want to stay there, under my desk?” Alex only sucked as a response, eyes shut again and still leaking with tears. The hardness in his mouth told him Jefferson wasn’t opposed to the idea even before he opened his eyes again. “You wanna be a good boy and keep my cock warm? Even if means I can’t go and lock the door?”

Alex only whined and suckled again.

“Well, suit yourself,” Jefferson said, feigning nonchalance, and soon the silence of the room was punctuated by the clicking of his keyboard.

Maybe Jefferson was better than Alex had originally judged him as; he actually managed to spend a fair amount of time not paying any attention to Alex. His hand only came down to absentmindedly tug on his hair every once in awhile, until he got the hint and sucked.

He managed to keep it up the whole time, too; but then again, so did Alex.

The ache in his jaw and knees turned into pain and then into a dull pressure anchoring him to reality as he drifted further and further away from his worries.

It was even better combined with the sense of satisfaction that came with Jefferson being the first one to snap. He snapped his laptop shut with a sigh, threaded a hand in Alexander’s hair to keep his head upright, and pulled out slowly.

Alex coughed, finally. His throat would be sore for a day at least. He expected Jefferson to let go, tell him to piss off or finish him off now that he’d fulfilled his purpose, but he kept his hold on Alexander’s hair, probably drinking in the atrocious state of his face. Alex forced his eyes open and Jefferson’s face was nothing but wondering. He wasn’t sure what to make of that, so he just whined quietly.

Jefferson reached for something on his desk, and then there was a wet wipe on Alexander’s face, working all the dried up fluids off his skin. Jefferson tossed it to a waste basket and his fingertips returned. They traced the place where Alexander’s tear trails had been, slow and considering.

“Good boy,” Jefferson’s voice was only slightly above a whisper. He bit on his lower lip and nodded to himself. “I’m gonna take you home.”

Alex sniffled.

 

~~~

 

Second time within a week when Alexander’s dick drove him out of work early. Well, prevented him from staying overtime. Same difference.

Not that Alexander was particularly concerned about that when Jefferson was nailing him into the mattress, fingers pressing into those bruises already etched into the skin of his hips. He grappled blindly for anything to hold onto, but all his fingers met was slippery bedsheets.

“Washington’s a smart man, you know,” Jefferson panted. Alex could barely make sense of the words, all that pent up energy and need accumulated on his knees on the floor of Jefferson’s office was driving him to distraction. “He could probably tell what was going on. Saved you the humiliation.”

“Fuck,” Alex cried, in both senses of the word. He’d cried more that day than he had in months, thanks to stupid Jefferson and his stupid magical dick. He was so close.

“Or maybe,” Jefferson bent down, matching the slope of Alexander’s back so he could talk right into his ear. “Maybe he was jealous, had to leave to stop himself from demanding the same services from you, the office slut.” His thrusts were short and brutal now, nailing Alex right where it felt the best and he couldn’t take it, please, _please-_

Jefferson’s teeth closed around his earlobe briefly. “Too bad I got to you first.”

Alex cursed and came so hard he felt in on his abdomen. Jefferson pushed on his hips until his legs gave out and ground his overstimulated dick into the wet patch on the mattress with every thrust, until he came as well, not even bothering to pull out so he could tug off the condom and come all over Alex’s back like usually (Jefferson liked to get on Alexander’s case about coming on his furniture, but that was definitely thing for him).

Alex panted into the bedsheets, boneless, and felt Jefferson leave the bed with a groan. A cool breeze grazed his sweaty skin, but he was so spent he didn’t even manage to pull the covers over himself. He wasn’t cold for long however; Jefferson was quick to return.

These post-coitus conversations were the dangerous ones. When they were too uncomfortable to just lie quietly together, but also too fucked out and satisfied to pack real punch behind their words.

Soon Alex was on his side, cradled in - allowing to be cradled in - Jefferson’s arms, one in the space between his shoulder and the pillow, and the other one slung lazily around his waist. Fingertips lightly drawing patterns on his ribs, possibly writing something. _Jefferson was here._ Alex only allowed it because of the aftercare-rule.

As soon as he got his tongue to work, he started coaxing Jefferson into an argument, whatever it took to keep the guy from calling him a good boy again. Now that Jefferson would see his ears turn pink and there was no attributing it to the physical exertion.

“I haven’t thought trickle-down economics were a thing since I was like, what, seventeen? Grow up.”

Jefferson’s voice was too lazy and careless for Alexander’s liking, a low gravel in his chest. “Maybe seventeen-year-old Hamilton and I would have actually gotten along, then.”

Alex snorted. “Fat chance. And please stop imagining me as a seventeen-year-old. Your filthy thoughts are making me feel even grosser than sleeping with you usually does.”

Jefferson hummed thoughtfully. “Hmm, yes, you must have been even more of a twink back then, all young and eager and _fresh,”_ his teeth scraped over the back of Alexander’s neck at the last word, like the thought of Alexander’s young and lean flesh made his mouth water. Alex felt like squirming, but that would have given away too much.

“Maybe you’re right,” he sighed, indifferent. His fingers closed around a wrinkle in the bedsheets. “Seventeen-year-old me thought that having matching hangers was the pinnacle of having your life together, so it’s not like my standards were particularly high back then anyway.”

“Matching hangers?” Jefferson questioned. The mattress shifted as he pulled back slightly. As if a better look at the back of Alexander’s head would help him better understand what was going on inside it. “You can get a pack of hangers from Walmart for like three dollars. Six if you want nice ones.”

Alex chewed on his lip, cheeks burning up suddenly. “It’s not about _having_ the fucking hangers.” He made a frustrated flaining motion with his hand. “It’s about having… the disposable income and stability that you would even _think_ to buy something that you could easily scrape together over time for free, something that most other people won’t even see, just because you want to.” For once he was struggling to find the words, but at same time his mouth just wouldn’t stop moving. “Matching hangers and cutlery sets and decorative pillows and underwear bought from a store that exclusively sells underwear are all things that aren’t really that expensive on their own, but they’re part of a certain lifestyle that assumes… stability. And I just…”

This was the part where Hamilton finally bit his tongue, resentful. Even if Jefferson deserved to, he would never _get it._ Jefferson with his sleek, yet flashy furniture, soft towels in his bathroom and thoughtfully placed France-souvenirs that were nothing like the trinkets people would get from some touristy shop right before rushing to the airport. Jefferson wouldn’t get why, in addition to his coffee machine, Alex had another one tucked at the back of some cupboard, salvaged from their dorm apartment with Hercules. Sure, Alex probably could have afforded to just buy another one if his current one broke, with what Washington paid him. But hoarding stuff, just in case, was a habit he’d learned along with learning to write. Because things always broke at the worst possible moment and having a cluttered apartment full of stuff you might never even need was always better than having to choose between buying a new toaster and eating.

And then there had been the foster families, and growing up not getting to hold onto anything that didn’t fit into a suitcase. How Alex had felt the first time he bought the DVD box sets of his favorite TV series (all of Buffy and a few carefully selected seasons of The X-files), and had a shelf to put them on.

Those were the two things Alex had gotten really, really good at. Scraping together whatever he might need on a rainy day and holding onto it tooth and nail, and tossing things aside before he’d get the chance to grow too fond of them. Two very contradictory habits stemming from the same thing, the temporarity of everything.

Jefferson was quiet, like he was waiting for Alex to finish the sentence and wasn’t sure what to do when he didn’t.

Eventually he flattened his palm against Alexander’s lower stomach and dragged it up to his abdomen. Alex shivered despite of himself.

“You’re all sticky with sweat,” Jefferson said and looked at his palm over Alexander's shoulder like it was visibly filthy. “I’m gonna run you a bath.”

With that he got up and patted into the en suite bathroom. Alex craned his neck enough to get a good look at Jefferson’s ass as he went, and plopped back down onto the warm spot his body had left on the mattress, eyes on the ceiling.

There was the temptation. The prospect of hot water lapping against his bruises and relaxing his muscles, Jefferson’s hands rubbing the grime off him as if anything about that horrible man’s touch could ever make him clean. He was pretty sure he’d seen a basketful of Lush-crap in the corner too, had always been curious about that stuff. It seemed fun, but way too overpriced and self-indulgent for Alex to justify spending on it. He didn’t even have a tub.

But then there was also the shame turning his skin a blotchy red and making him dig his blunt nails into his palms. Feeling like he’d been coaxed into giving something away with soft sheets and idle fingers drawing on his skin. Not only did Alex never speak about his background, but all of his struggles growing up had turned into something fundamental at his core, something hard yet incredibly fragile. He felt sick to his stomach that he’d allowed Jefferson to catch a glimpse of it.

Alex wasn’t even sure if Jefferson was planning on washing him as part of the aftercare-routine, or fucking him in the tub again, or just dumping him there so he’d have an excuse to get away from the awkward conversation.

Soon Alex was climbing out of the bed despite of his sore _everything,_ and pulling his clothes on as quickly and silently as possible like some guy who’d just had a one night stand with a single parent and wanted to slip out of the door before the kids woke up.

The running water most likely prevented Jefferson from hearing the click of the door. Alex spared himself a self-aware smile. Always loudly coming (hah), and quietly leaving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> G u y s listen, it’s a modern office AU, I am legally obligated to have a ‘someone walks in on a bj’-scene, sorry I don’t make the rules. Also the ‘accidentally kissing your friend on the mouth upon meeting them’-thing happened to me for real so you can’t blame me for the cliche.
> 
> [[Obligatory tumblr plug](https://nightshiftblues.tumblr.com/)]


	7. Rule #14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yall remember that conference in D.C. someone brings up in like every other scene?

“Take turns driving, I’m not coming to peel you off the highway if you crash.”

“It’s a four-hour-long drive, Dolley, I won’t be passing out,” James grumbled at his wife.

“Five hours with snack breaks,” Thomas pitched his voice up from where he was leaning on the side of the car. James looked like a disgruntled toddler who wouldn’t admit he would miss his mother at daycare, sulking as Dolley fussed over his tie and counted and double-counted his luggage. Thomas couldn’t help but grin at the sight. _Marriage._

“Alright, alright,” James insisted. “We’re gonna be late.” He wrapped an arm around Dolley’s waist and pressed a kiss on the corner of her mouth. His palm pressed briefly on her lower tummy as he withdrew.

“Come onnn,” Thomas hollered. “I didn’t get up at ass o’clock for nothing!”

It was so early even the birds sounded unmotivated to scream. The sun peeked coyly over the rooftops and a wisp of dew was still clinging to the green of a small field separating James’ suburban home from their neighbor’s. Thomas couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten up so early.

A few more hasty goodbyes and they finally pulled off the driveway, luggage and all, and headed for D.C.

“I can take the wheel after we stop for lunch,” Thomas offered, fiddling with the radio.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“What happened the last time you were allowed to drive past state lines?” James asked, stern.

He was referring to that summer on their senior year of college, when they decided to go on a road trip through some of the southern states. Thomas smiled faintly at the memory of James in his early twenties, all chubby and cute and in denial of his inability to grow a good-looking moustache. “I got us lost,” he admitted.

“You got us lost, because you insisted you knew better than the GPS because you had been to South Carolina once when you were twelve,” James recited.

Thomas huffed and crossed his arms. “That was ages ago! Don’t I deserve a redemption arc?”

James shrugged. “As soon as I recover from the trauma of being stranded without gas on the highway at three in the morning.”

“And when will that be?”

James’ lips quirked into a tiny, teasing smile. “I’ll let you know when it happens.”

Thomas pretended to sulk, but he knew James wasn’t buying it. This was good, he had needed this. Just some quality time alone with James, with no distractions, and no ugly thoughts clogging up his head.

The silence would have been a comfortable one, had it not been for James’ fingers drumming on the steering wheel. After ten minutes Thomas sighed loudly. “She’ll be fine, James. She’s not even showing yet.”

At first he thought James wasn’t going to reply at all. “Did you know 80 percent of miscarriages happen during the first trimester?” His voice was quiet and he squeezed on the steering wheel, tense eyes on the road.

Thomas chewed on his lower lip uncomfortably. “She will be _fine,”_ he repeated. “We’ll be back on Monday. You won’t even have the time to miss her.”

“I already do,” James sighed, shoulders slumping slightly. Thomas swallowed down the bitterness that tried to rise up his throat and they listened to the talk show on the radio quietly for a while.

“So,” James said and Thomas could already tell from the tone of his voice this wasn’t going to be good. “How are things going with the cinnamon vanilla-person?”

Thomas groaned. He had hoped the family addition would have at least distracted James from the awkward Whole Foods-conversation. “You don’t know that there’s _a_ person, what if I’m just having loads of anonymous sex with a bunch of hot strangers?”

James looked unimpressed. “Thomas, I went to college with you. If anonymous sex was your thing, I would know.”

Thomas’s cheeks heated up. They very rarely came this close to mentioning _the incident._

And, well, James wasn’t wrong. It wasn’t as though Thomas got particularly emotional about sex, it was just objectively better with people you knew. There was some degree of trust, and knowing how to fuck somebody just right was as much of a skill accumulated over time as any. Aside from raw physical relief, first times and one night stands were rarely particularly good.

(Except for the ‘cinnamon vanilla-person’, who had admittedly been good from the very first time and only continued to get better. But that was beside the point.)

Fuck it. Who was he going to talk to, if not James? Thomas had always been rather open about his (few and far between) dating exploits with the man, possibly due to a need to paint himself as a desirable partner because Thomas was just that pathetic. Why stop now?

“It’s… good?” he said cautiously. “It works to fill the need it’s supposed to fill.”

James pointedly didn’t ask for specification as to what that need was. “But?”

“But,” Thomas said slowly, “they’re not an easy person to please.”

The understatement of the year. Being intimate with Hamilton, Thomas had learned, was like trying to befriend a stray cat. One moment he was purring under his touch, begging to be stroked, and then suddenly seemingly out of nowhere he would sink his claws into Thomas’ hand and run off.

And he hated baths too, apparently. Which made Thomas even more determined to give him one someday.

“But you want to please them?” James probed.

Thomas shrugged and pretended to interested in the passing landscapes. “When it’s good, it’s good. I’ll keep at it as long as it keeps being worth it.”

James hummed. “That’s interesting.”

Thomas shot him a sharp look. “What’s interesting?”

“I’ve never known you to be very partial to compromise,” James said with a candid smile. “This person must be pretty special.”

“He’s not ‘special’,” Thomas snapped, and bit his tongue immediately after. James was using the same techniques that always left him knowing more about their clients than they wanted to let on, the sneaky bastard. “Where do you want to eat?” The extremely un-smooth change of topic was probably rather informative, too.

James, being James, pretended not to notice. “Some local cuisine of whatever state we happen to be in?”

“As long as they have-”

“Say mac n’ cheese and I’m crashing us both.”

 

~~~

 

"D.C. is even drabber than I remember it,” Thomas commented to James, who hummed in agreement as he navigated the busy streets.

The hotel was nice at least, clearly worthy of the sizeable conference-budget. Even the non-management employees didn’t have to share rooms. Thomas carried one of James’ suitcases in addition to his own (Dolley had really gone overboard packing for less than four days), and when they entered the lobby a good chunk of their co-workers had already arrived.

Thomas’ eyes scanned over the crowd and quickly spotted Washington - a man of his height was hard to miss - but failed to locate Hamilton. Maybe he was just hidden behind all the normal-height people, or maybe he’d gone straight to the bar so he could hit on some innocent passerby. Not that it mattered - Thomas would be seeing more than enough of him over the weekend.

As per usual, Hamilton could be heard before he could be seen. “My ass will never recover from this,” he groaned loudly as he walked through the revolving doors with Laurens. There was a great immature joke to be made about that comment, but no one Thomas could make it to.

“Language, Alexander,” Burr chided, suddenly standing at the forefront of the lobby. It was like saying naughty words summoned him from the depths of puritan hell.

Alexander, who had yet to as much as acknowledge Thomas with a glance, frowned and then grinned in quick succession. He flung his bag over his shoulder and leaned his hips to the side. “You gonna wash my mouth with soap now, sir?”

Jefferson had never liked that particular way Hamilton called Burr ‘sir'. It just didn’t sound right.

Burr smiled, though his eyes remained cold. “I’ll take you over my knee for it if you won’t behave in front of the investors.”

Laurens _ooh-_ ed and Hamilton placed his palm over his heart like a scandalized Victorian lady.

“Weird how those two keep flirting even though they clearly hate each other’s guts,” Jefferson muttered to James from the corner of his mouth.

James gave him an exasperated side glance. “Is it, Thomas? Is it weird?”

The only act of acknowledgement Thomas received from Hamilton was when he purposefully ran into his shoulder walking by.  “Jeffie.”

“Hammy.”

Thomas was just about to ask James why he was staring at him with narrowed eyes, when Washington cleared his throat loudly.

“Thank you for coming, everyone,” he nodded at the scattered group of people in the lobby. “Why don’t you all sign in and get settled into your rooms. The opening dinner begins at six pm so you have plenty of time to get comfortable.” He smiled pleasantly. “Other than that, I will take this opportunity to remind us all that we’re here for business, not pleasure. Feel free to mingle and take advantage of the free bar - in moderation - tonight, but make sure you’re well rested tomorrow morning as we begin.”

There was scattered applause despite of the camp leader-nature of the speech. Washington had that kind of an effect on a crowd. Hamilton was pushing his way through the sea of bodies, towards Washington.

James jabbed at Thomas’ side with his elbow. “You coming?”

“You go ahead,” he responded, eyeing the crowd thoughtfully.

“You have something to do?”

Thomas met James’ pensive gaze and smiled. “You heard the man,” he pointed his thumb at Washington, who was nodding thoughtfully at whatever Hamilton was saying. “Business.”

“Right.” James shook his head slightly. “Well, I better go give Dolley a call. See you at dinner?”

“You do that,” Thomas nodded, barely hearing what he was saying.

He lingered in the lobby, playing with his phone, until most of the people had filtered out and Hamilton eventually stopped pestering Washington and headed for his room.

As luck would have it, they ended up in the elevator alone.

“Decided to become a stalker in addition to being a creep, huh?” Hamilton raised an eyebrow.

This was the downside of their enemies with benefits-arrangement. Thomas couldn’t quite tell if this was the usual kind of banter, or if Hamilton was genuinely mad about the bath-incident, or missing work, or something else.

He smiled at Hamilton pleasantly. “Thought I would check in on your ass, since it has apparently taken such a battering. I’ll need it for later.”

For a moment Hamilton seemed off-kilter, blinking and turning to face away from Thomas. “Oh, the battering will happen later. Didn’t you hear Burr?” When Alex turned to face Thomas again, that mocking faux-innocent smile of his plastered on. “You may ‘need’ my ass, but I can assure you I can get what I need from elsewhere.”

Jefferson took pleasure in the way Hamilton tripped over his own feet when he pinned him against the wall from his shoulder.

“Liar.”

He hadn’t really kissed Hamilton on the mouth since that time at his doorstep, on that day they had the conversation about the rules. One of the unstated rules of their agreement was that they never faced each other during sex, and even aftercare was limited to awkward cuddling and Thomas stroking Alexander’s arms and chest and stomach until he came down from the intensity of the scene.

As their lips slotted together in a flurry of nipping teeth and forceful tongue, Thomas had to wonder why. Kissing Hamilton was good, the way he clung to Jefferson’s body with his grabby little hands and choked out scattered syllables of broken words into his mouth, unable to shut up even when Thomas was giving his tongue something better to do. All Thomas and Alexander did was take and take and take from each other, hoping to be the one to walk away with more than the other one at the end of the day, but lately Thomas had mostly been the one to (for the lack of a better expression) come out of top, hadn’t he? Ever since- well. Ever since he found out about James.

They parted for a breath and Hamilton let hastily go of the back of Thomas’s coat as if the fabric was suddenly burning his palms. His face was red and the earlier coldness had been replaced with badly masked want and confusion. “What was that for?”

Truthfully, Thomas didn’t remember most of their ‘rules’ at this point. The point of them had been to open up a discussion about boundaries and expectations more than anything. And seeing that Hamilton and him were responsible adults, remembering the general gist of them was what mattered anyway, right?

All that said, Thomas did remember one rule very vividly, number and all. It was one he had known he would be holding Hamilton up to from the very moment those words had fallen from his lips.

Thomas reached into the outer pocket of his suitcase and pulled out a black, nondescript shopping bag. He made sure to shove it against Hamilton’s chest hard enough to pin his back into the wall again. He smirked down at Hamilton’s pensive face.

“Rule fourteen.”

They reached Thomas’ floor and the doors opened with a _ding._

“Seriously? You couldn’t have waited until-” Hamilton’s piped up, but was cut short as a group of people entered the elevator. Thomas shot him a sweet smile over his shoulder as he walked out. “I’ll see you at the opening dinner, Alexander.”

The furious look on Hamilton’s face as the doors slid closed put a spring into Thomas’ step, his earlier messy thoughts gleefully forgotten. This would be a good night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m pretty frikken pumped about the next 3 chapters, if I may say so. Any predictions are welcomed with joy!
> 
> [[Obligatory tumblr plug](https://nightshiftblues.tumblr.com/)] <\- it has some stuff that never makes it to ao3


	8. Rule #11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heed them tags, so much kink. Sorry this was delayed!

“Thomas. Good evening.”

Thomas raised his gaze from his hotel room’s door and nodded at his boss, who was just exiting his own room as well. “Mr. Washington.”

A very Washington-esque move, to be sleeping in a standard single room rather than in a penthouse suite. Jefferson’s room was nice and spacious, sure, but he hadn’t expected to be sleeping right next door from his boss.

“Enjoying your room?” Washington asked as they fell into pace with each other.

“Very much,” Thomas tucked his hands into his pockets and smiled. “This hotel was a good choice.”

Washington nodded. ”We haven’t been here since the Schuyler conference about a decade ago. They’re very accommodating.” A semi-comfortable silence ensued as they waited for the elevator to reach their floor.

Thomas had to wonder, about Washington. As far as he knew, the man’s social circle mostly consisted of people from work, and yet - the mask never really came off. Sure, Washington cared for his employees and the business deeply, he was far from cold, but at the same time, could anyone really say they _knew_ Washington? There was too much at stake for Washington to be anything short of the strict-yet-kind authority figure he was playing at all times, too much resting on his shoulders to slip up in front of his co-workers. Aside from perhaps Philip Schuyler and Von Steuben, the other older generation business veterans (and, well, veteran-veterans), there seemed to be nobody Washington really trusted.

Was that where the attraction lied, for Hamilton? This infallible control, combined with the handsome looks and impressive physique? Was that what Alexander saw in Burr too, even though Burr couldn’t hold a candle to Washington because unlike him, Washington was above petty ambitions and bitterness.

For the life of him, Thomas couldn’t understand it. How could Hamilton ever hope to connect with anyone if all he wanted was to find the person with the most impenetrable walls and get on his knees? Or was not being able to connect with his lovers the point?

But then again, reminded some unwelcome voice of reason at the back of Thomas’ head, Thomas had himself chosen the most unattainable person he could find to fall for, and dealt with his unreciprocated feelings by sleeping with a guy he despised, so really who was he to judge?

The questioning look from Washington made Thomas realize he had scoffed out loud.

“Did I hear you mention an open bar earlier or was that just wistful thinking?” he inquired.

Washington’s good-natured laughter rumbled from the depths of his chest. “I did say that, indeed, though perhaps I was wrong to advertise it so openly.” He smiled at Thomas, canines and all. “I would instil a rule about sobriety during conferences, but I think the whole office would riot.”

Thomas fluffed up his curls and straightened out his shirt cuffs via the elevator mirror as they approached the ground floor. His business-casual suit with the closely fitted pants and tweed vest looked great, even though he’d been worried about them being wrinkled all to hell in the suitcase.

“Well, from my experience those kinds of rules rarely work anyway,” he muttered at the mirror.

 

~~~

 

Of course there were placement cards. Thomas ended up seated close to Steuben, which was great (the man was entertaining if not a tad tiring, and more than useful as a business contact), but then so did Hamilton and Burr. Thomas could see the logic behind it; Burr would work as mediator, keeping the conversation civil between him and Hamilton, while the department head of the D. C. branch would get to hear both of their points of view on the latest developments of the company. Yet again Thomas was reminded of the razor-sharp, practical clarity of Washington's thinking. He shot a wistful glance at James, who was seated at the other end of the table, stuck listening to Lee and Laurens bicker over something.

It wasn’t _that_ bad, at first. Von Steuben _(baron_ von Steuben) was doing most of the talking, his presence sucking up the attentive energy of the room and striving off it. Most of the main course was spent with him sharing hilarious anecdotes of his travels, amusingly always accompanied with a differently named boyfriend. Seeing a man as successful and as openly queer as the baron always kind of lifted Thomas’ spirits. The only thing annoying him occasionally was Hamilton (figures), and Burr with his open, shameless ass-licking (figures again).

Then came the dessert, and Hamilton decided the end of van Steuben’s story about his recent visit to Paris was a great opportunity to share his idiotic opinions on the French shareholders.

“We’ve actually been thinking about cutting back their shares to reduce their influence,” he said, poking at a slice of raspberry cheesecake with his fork like he was suspicious of it.

“I didn’t know people still used the royal ‘we’ in the 21st century,” Thomas said, smiling. He turned to von Steuben. “What Hamilton means is that _he_ wants to abandon the people who made it possible for us to succeed to begin with. Even Washington doesn’t agree with him.”

“He doesn’t _disagree_ with me, either,” Hamilton piped up, the tips of his ears turning scarlet. Thomas smirked. _So easy._ “He sees the logic in it, anyone who isn’t so far up France’s ass they can taste the undigested baguettes does.”

“Alexander, please,” Burr scolded sharply, but von Steuben let out a hearty laugh.

“Discussions with you boys are always so spirited, I love it!”

Thomas leaned his cheek on his palm and smiled at Hamilton pleasantly. “Language, Alexander. The grownups are talking.”

Hamilton glared, a death grip on his fork. “The thing about grownups is that most of them know basic arithmetic.”

More out of idle curiosity than anything, Thomas’ hand traveled to his pocket and his fingers closed around a small remote control. He pressed a button.

“Now I don’t expect you to understand the finer details of debt management, but a thirty percent decrease in annual net profits-” Hamilton hissed sharply, followed by an abrupt coughing fit. Burr smacked his back, which made his eyes widen comically. Hamilton gripped the edge of the table with white knuckles.

Thomas chewed on his lip and swept his tongue over the tender skin. He honestly hadn’t expected Hamilton to be wearing it to the dinner. His eyes skimmed over the thin fabric of his dress shirt, wondering. Looking for a shadow underneath, an out of place crease on the fabric. The lighting was too dim for him to really tell, but Hamilton’s tie was done very snugly despite of the slightly informal nature of the dinner. It was possible.

“Are you alright, son?” von Steuben peered at Hamilton’s reddened face, concerned.

Thomas pressed another button and Hamilton shot him a fiery glare across the table. “Yes, sir, sorry, just something on my- on my throat.”

Thomas reached for a pitcher of water and filled Hamilton’s glass, smiling. “You were saying?”

“The French shareholders,” Hamilton gritted between his teeth and closed his eyes for a few seconds, “they, ah, I think they…”

Von Steuben smiled. “Perhaps Mr. Hamilton has had too much to drink.” Never mind they'd all had a wine glass or two at the most over the course of the dinner.

Hamilton hissed under his breath when Thomas’ thumb jabbed at another button. “Actually, I think it is quite the opposite. If you’ll excuse me.”

Hamilton stood up clumsily and started to speed walk towards the bar.

“I’ll go check on him,” Thomas said absentmindedly and ignored Burr’s suspicious lift of eyebrow as he followed Alexander to the bar. He crossed his fingers and leaned on the polished counter, standing shoulder to shoulder with the quivering man. “Color?”

“Green,” Alexander said, his voice slightly choked. “Wow, that thing is- that thing is powerful.”

Thomas shrugged. “We’ll, we’ve only tried three settings.”

Hamilton swallowed. “And how many settings are there?”

Thomas shrugged again. “Could be five. Could be ten.”

“Oh.”

Alex looked good like this, flustered and the pupils of his slightly teary eyes dilated, pretending it wasn’t getting to him but failing to hide the quickening of his breath. Thomas took the mimosa brought by the bartender from Alexander’s fingers and set it aside. “Go and talk to von Steuben,” he said, his voice low by Alexander’s ear.

Really he just needed to send Alexander away before he’d get the chance to beg. He would want Thomas to tell him no, of course, that was part of the game. But with Alex looking at him like that, Thomas wasn’t sure that he could.

And anyway, the night was only beginning.

 

~~~

 

“I hate you,” Alex moaned, already rubbing against Thomas’ leg before the door of his hotel room was properly closed. “You’re a terrible man and I hate you so much.”

Thomas hummed. He pinned Alexander’s wrists against the door and let him squirm for a moment. Now that they were alone in a quiet, enclosed room, the buzzing of the cock ring could be heard faintly if he listened for it.

“Fuck, fuck,” Alex moaned, slack-mouthed. “I’m so hard, please-”

“I know, Alexander,” Thomas said. ”I can tell on the account of you humping my leg like a bitch in heat.”

Alex glared, but most of the fight seemed to have drained out of him over the two and a half hours of stimulation. “Do you want to see me in this ridiculous thing or not?”

Thomas grabbed his tie and backed up to the bed, pulling Hamilton along. “I can’t believe you actually wore them to the dinner.”

Alexander shrugged. “Rule’s a rule.” Thomas sat down on the edge of the bed and leaned back as he undid the knot of his tie, hands just a little bit too clumsy and trembly to pull off that nonchalantly seductive vibe Hamilton was probably going for. After working the tie off, Alex unbuttoned his shirt and Thomas’ fingers curled against the stiff fabric of the top cover.

The lipstick red color of the strappy harness accentuated the warm tint of Alexander’s skin, and the straps clinging to the nip of his waist and the curves of his hips and ass barely covered anything, which was more or less the point. They certainly didn’t cover his cock, which was hard and a flushed deep shade of red, constricted at the base with a cock ring. The vibrating bit, Thomas knew, laid against his perineum. Thomas had selected it carefully, after all.

“Pervert,” Alex murmured and peeled off his pants, revealing the red stockings clipped into the suspenders of the harness. Thomas had to admire how un-bashful Alexander always was, even when put on display like this. His demeanor was a contradictory mixture of fluster and want and put-on nonchalance, but he clearly preened under Thomas’ hungry eyes licking up and down his frame.

Thomas hooked two fingers under the strap running up Alexander’s sternum and into a thin collar around his neck and pulled until the other man was stepped between his legs. Thomas ran his fingertips slowly down Alexander’s front and let them rest at the base of his hips. “What was that, pet?”

Alexander groaned and crawled onto Thomas’ lap. His hardness dragged against Thomas’ growing erection and the friction was exquisite even through his boxers and pants. Hamilton whined and rolled his lips, holding a vice-like grip on Thomas’ shoulders.

“Ahh, fuck,” Hamilton groaned as the vibrating part of the ring pressed even tighter against the sensitive bit of skin behind his balls. “Was this really necessary?”

Thomas scraped his teeth over Alexander’s collarbone and made him whine, high in his throat. “Yeah. You keep coming on my furniture without permission.”

Alexander keened and panted. “You could just make me wear a condom to prevent the mess, you know:”

Thomas grabbed his ponytail and Alexander gasped as his head was yanked back. “Yeah.” Thomas kissed Alexander’s Adam’s apple until he was writing on his lap. “I _could._ But it’s not your job to decide how discipline’s gonna work.”

Another broken moan from Alex. His cock looked like a few good strokes would make him come regardless of the constriction of the ring and suddenly it occurred to Thomas that he could, quite easily, see what Alex looked like when he came if he wanted to. Watch his face scrunch up and go slack with pleasure. His fingers twitched.

“Speaking of discipline,” Alex moaned and shook Thomas out of the thought tangent, “I do believe, ah, believe I was promised a spanking whenever I wanna.”

How could Thomas say no to that? He reached into his pocket and pressed on a button that left the ring on its lowest setting, just a steady buzz to keep Alexander strung out, but not enough to make him come. He scooted backwards on the bed and guided Alex to lie across his lap.

“Can I have a color?” he asked, stroking his knuckles over the curve of Alexander’s ass, framed so beautifully with the thin, scarlet straps of the lingerie.

“Green,” Alex groaned and squirmed weakly, obediently placing his wrists on the small of his back for Thomas to grab a hold of. “Please sir.”

“Everyone could tell you were a moment away from spreading yourself on a table for the first willing person, you know,” Thomas hummed, pulled back a strap and let it snap against Alexander’s skin. Alexander whined. “I think I’ll just keep hitting you until I feel like you’ve learned a lesson. That alright?”

“Yes, sir,” Alex groaned. “Please, sir.”

Thomas licked his palm with the flat of his tongue - a useful trick he learned some while ago - and landed a firm smack on Alexander’s left cheek. The breathless yelp Alexander let out told him the strength behind the strike was a good starting point. Thomas set an unpredictable pace to throw him off, varying the intensity and placement slightly. He couldn’t tear his eyes off the magnificent creature under him, writhing and moaning and wrapped in red ribbons like a present.

Alexander thought he was so slick. He’d circled Washington all evening like a moth almost self-aware enough to know what happens when it flies into the flame, slipping in and out of his boss’s line of sight. Thomas cut off the vibrations whenever he strayed too close, of course. That was how this worked and he wanted to make sure Alexander knew that; Alex could pine all he wanted, but at the end of the day he would have to come to Thomas to get what he needed.

Thomas was past the point of denying it excited him. Whether Washington realized it or not, Alexander was his - and yet Thomas was the one who had him under him, panting and begging again and again and again. It was like cuckolding in a way, minus the cheating-part. The best of both worlds.

The fact that Washington had excused himself into his room not long ago might have had something to do with it, too.

“Sir, sir, oh God,” Alex moaned and tried to rut his hips against the covers uselessly. His voice was thick with emerging sobs.

“Say my name.”

A stuttering silence. Alexander gasped for air like a drowning man. Thomas held his breath, suddenly apprehensive of those words - the command that had fallen out of his mouth with no consideration behind it.

He squeezed on the red, tender skin of Alexander’s ass and elicited a weak whine. That was good, that was better than nothing. Better than Alexander thinking this was going too far or that-

“Thomas,” Alexander whispered so hesitantly it nearly sank into the bedsheets. “Thomas, please…” He swallowed and his voice came out slightly steadier. “Again, please.”

Thomas smacked him, firm. There was a heat building and building in his gut. He wouldn’t have his composure for much longer. “Louder.”

“Thomas,” Alex groaned, first like there was something foreign about the name that his tongue didn’t quite bend around, but then louder and louder until Thomas’ name was the only distinguishable word in the mess of curses and pleas falling from his lips. “Thomas, ah, oh g- Thomas, you’re gonna make me- Thomas, _Thomas!”_

The orgasm made Alexander’s entire body convulse and Thomas pinned him down as he twisted and thrashed on his lap like he’d been possessed, crying and moaning into the covers.

Thomas stroked his back through the aftershocks and laid Alex carefully down on the bedsheets, kissing his jaw, collarbones and ribs. Just when he thought he’d gotten used to the sight of Alexander in a pretty harness, the sight of him laid out on the bedsheets all red and compliant undid him all over again.

He stroked Alexander’s thighs, up and down, and the smoothness of the exposed scrap of skin made him pause. “Did you shave your legs?”

“Hairy legs and fancy stockings are kind of a weird combo, don’t you think,” Alexander said slowly, cracking his eyes open. Even with his enlarged pupils and languid facial expression, there was still a certain bite in the way he peered up at Thomas with those dark, hungry eyes. A challenge.

Thomas dipped his head down and licked until those eyes fluttered closed again and Alexander’s mouth fell open into a soundless gasp. “Better make sure your efforts paid off, then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of course I wouldn’t leave you guys without a reference for the [lingerie](https://www.lovehoney.co.uk/product.cfm?p=39107) Ham is wearing. #research
> 
> (Safety note: don’t actually wear a cock ring for several hours, this is a dumb unrealistic fanfic etc.)
> 
> [[Obligatory tumblr plug](https://nightshiftblues.tumblr.com/)]


	9. Rule #10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Regular updating schedule? I don't know her.

_“Who’s that?”_

_“Hm?” Burr followed Alexander’s gaze out of the junior associate-sized bullpen and onto the hallway. “Who?”_

_Alex jabbed his chin towards a young-looking guy balancing a clipboard on top of the water cooler and furiously scribbling on it despite of the awkward position. “Mr. Freckles over there.”_

_“Oh,” Burr returned to his laptop, dismissive. “I think that’s another intern in… I want to say accounting? I think his name is Josh or something like that.”_

_As someone who worked in a cubicle the size of a mop closet, Burr really had no business being so dismissive of meager interns. There wasn’t even a table for Alex - he had to settle for awkwardly balancing a laptop on his thighs while perched on a flimsy chair stolen from the canteen._

_He swallowed down his irritation and let his gaze travel up the toned frame of the fellow intern still at the water cooler. His shirt wasn’t properly tucked into his pants, so a scrap of tan skin was exposed on his lower tummy with the way he was straining to write on the clipboard. Alex kind of wanted to get closer just to see if that part was as freckled as his face, wich was framed by a head of bouncy-looking curls._

_Burr was shooting him an amused look over his shoulder when Alex tore his eyes off the guy. “You can go ask for his number if you’d like.”_

_Alex grinned and stretched out as playfully as he could within the confines of his pathetic chair, careful not to knock his laptop to the floor. “Maybe I should. You think I’d make a good stereotypical, slutty intern?”_

_Burr didn’t even flinch, to Alexander’s disappointment. He propped an arm on the back of his chair and smiled that playful-yet-politely-meaningless smile of his. “I believe the stereotype involves fornicating with someone who makes an actual salary, Alexander.”_

_Alex crossed his arms. “The other interns do make a salary here.”_

_“More than a three-figure one.”_

_“Touché.” Alex rolled his eyes. “But it’s not like you let me get close enough to actual management to find viable sugar daddy candidates.”_

_Burr snorted, stood up and straightened out a pen lying next to his laptop like he couldn’t bear to leave it not perfectly aligned with the edge of the desk. “Look, you can go chat this guy up, or you can proofread some of these documents before you go. I don’t have much for you to do today,” he said with a slightly apologetic smile._

_Alex smiled sweetly. “I’ll look them over. I’m not just a pretty face believe it or not.” He could talk to Freckles some other time._

_“Of course not.” Burr actually had the audacity to pat Alexander’s shoulder condescendingly on his way out. “I’ll go have a chat with Montgomery while you’re at it.”_

I’m gonna have this guy’s job within five years, _Alex decided._

_He set his laptop aside and plopped into Burr’s (marginally more comfortable) swivel chair with a deflated sigh. Proofreading was a drag; Alex had soon learned Burr didn’t give a damn about his insights concerning the actual contents of the documents, hell, he even raised a fuss over a semicolon that Alex thought introduced a nicer flow to the sentence structure. He barely had the amount of authority that the spell check programme of Microsoft Word wielded._

_Alex swallowed down his bitterness as he changed the spacing of the document from 1.5 to 2. Whatever. Internships were about sucking up to the right people and having something nice to put on your resume alongside the retail gig that paid the bills, not about making an actual difference with some pesky ‘insights’. He knew that._

_A little notification window popped up at the bottom of Burr’s screen. An email that read ‘Deliver the steuben-reports to me at your earliest convenience please. -G. W. - sent from my iPhone’_

_Alex drummed on his kneecap with the tips of his fingers as he read the message two more times._

_There was only one person in the building with the initials, and the sufficient careless authority to be sending greetingless emails from his iPhone to junior associates._

_George Washington._

_It wasn’t even a choice, really. Alex had never even gotten close enough to shake the man’s hand. This was a shot._

_He inspected his shirt sleeves for stray ink blotches while the documents printed and tried not to feel too self-conscious about his less-than-perfectly fitting suit. Not that Alex would even want for Washington’s approval if the man was too much of a materialistic prick to not see past it._

_He avoided Montgomery’s office smoothly and collected himself as he took the elevator to the top floor. His palms were clammy. The secretary at the door scanned Alexander quickly and dismissed him even quicker. He didn’t take it too personally._

_Alexander’s brief knock was followed by a curt “yes”, and there he was._

_Washington’s office was impeccable, all wall-length windows and shiny mahogany. It had a lived-in atmosphere due to the well-stocked bookshelves and framed photos scattered here and there, and yet it was impeccably tidy in that way functional adult’s homes tended to be when they received guests. Alex got the sense that Washington had inhabited this office for a long time; his presence dominated every aspect of it._

_Although, seeing Washington seated in the chair behind his desk, all wide shoulders and straight yet relaxed posture, Alex got the sense that dominating whatever space he inhabited was kind of Washington’s thing._

_Alex cleared his throat. “The van Steuben-documents, sir.”_

_Alex expected another dismissal as quick as the one he’d gotten from the secretary, but Washington looked him steadily in the eye. “Burr sent you?”_

_“Yes.” Alex inhaled covertly and extended his hand. Washington let him reach for him over the table, bending slightly at the waist, before moving to accept the handshake. Alexander’s eyes darted down to his hand (pale and small in comparison) being enveloped by Washington’s warm and firm squeeze, and quickly back into his eyes. “I’m the intern he’s been saddled with. Alexander Hamilton.”_

_Washington’s gaze was inquisitive, as far as Alex could tell. There might have been amusement there, too, if he looked for it. He didn’t dare to._

_“I thought we only recruited three people via the internship scheme, and I’ve met all of them,” Washington said with a quirked brow as Alex straightened up._

_Alex chuckled awkwardly and shrugged. “I’m not actually here via the internship scheme. I emailed the recruitment team and asked if I could come observe.”_

_Washington nodded as though the explanation made perfect sense. “And when you say ‘come observe’, you mean you offered to do it unpaid.” He was still looking at Alex. It felt like no one else in this building had looked at him consecutively for such a long period of time._

_“Well.” Alex shifted on his feet. “That’s pretty much the gist of it. I’m just here for the experience.”_

_“We pay all of our interns,” Washington said after a pause. “Many companies like to take advantage of a demographic that is already saddled with debt and struggles to secure footing in the job market. I frankly find it disgusting, and profoundly un-American.”_

_Alex wasn’t sure if he should feel guilty, even though Washington's disdain clearly wasn’t aimed at him. There was definitely something sloshing and turning in his guts under that piercing stare._

_“Are you on your final year of study?” Washington asked._

_“It’s my penultimate year, sir.”_

_Washington nodded and picked up a business card from a neat little pile on his desk. “Do well while you’re here, and drop me an email once you’ve graduated. For a reference, or maybe an interview.” He smiled. “If you’re sufficiently impressive.”_

_Alex picked up the card, stupefied, and handed the documents over. There was a slight crease in the thick wad of paper where his fingers had squeezed throughout the interaction._

_“Thank you, sir. I will.”_

 

~~~

 

Jefferson was sneaky like this. Made it difficult for Alex to hate staying the night by exploiting his fondness for morning sex.

“You evil, terrible man,” Alex moaned as Thomas pinned his hips to the mattress and swallowed around the base of his cock.

It was sort of surprising, that Thomas was so good at this. Alex would have expected him to grow rapidly bored of any activity that didn’t directly contribute to his own sexual gratification. He bunched the sheets into his fists and gasped for air. He couldn’t give Thomas the satisfaction of his legs shaking. He would never hear the end of it.

Thomas sucked and worked his tongue around the tip in circles. Alex couldn’t help but whine.

“I’m gonna come soon,” he panted.

Thomas’ fingers graced the base and that was enough to tell Alex he wasn’t allowed to. He lifted his head to gaze down at Thomas pitifully, who pulled his mouth off him with a moist pop. “That’s not yours to decide, sweetheart.”

“Oh, c’mon,” Alex groaned and let his head drop back against the pillow.

“That’s what you get,” Thomas’ fingers curled around his shaft and stroked him slowly and Alex could hear the smile in his voice, “for being a tease.”

Alex had woken up in these strange bedsheets with an arm wrapped around his waist and a mass of curly hair tickling the top of his shoulder. He had decided to resolve the awkwardness of the situation by grinding his ass back into Thomas’ crotch until he’d woken up.

“I give you a pleasant wakeup call and this is how you thank me,” Alex moaned. He could feel Thomas’s breath on the tip of his dick. That warm mouth was so close, as was his orgasm, and yet completely in the hands of this awful man between his legs. ”C’mon, I need it, please, Thomas-”

A mouth wrapped around his tip and sank down his length and Alexander’s plea turned into a startled scream. What Thomas lacked in technique he made up for in determination; the steady pace he set in conjunction with the hand wrapped around Alexander’s base had him twitching and moaning in a few short moments. A string of curses and repetitions of Thomas’ name (same difference, really) fell from Alexander’s lips as he tried to uselessly buck into the hold Thomas still had on his hips until the pressure boiled over and he came. Thomas’ mouth wouldn’t let up even as pleasure turned into oversensitivity and Alex was reduced into a moaning, quivering wreck.

Once Jefferson was satisfied that the soul had been sufficiently sucked out of Alexander’s body, he reached for a class of water on the nightstand and spat into it.

Alex found his vocal cords again and snorted. “What, Thomas Jefferson doesn’t swallow? I should have guessed.”

Thomas rolled his eyes. The mattress dipped as he lied down next to Alex. “Not all of us use semen as our main source of protein intake, Alexander.”

Alex gingerly peeled himself off the mattress, feeling the soreness and sting of last night. Mainly on his ass, but not exclusively. “Only wimps don’t swallow.”

Thomas’ eyes followed Alex as he limped to his suitcase. “It’s just a gross thought, having little sperm-tadpoles swimming around in my guts,” he said.

Alex had to snort again. He dug up a random t-shirt from the depths of Jefferson’s suitcase and threw it on - his walk of shame would be at least a little bit less obvious without his dress shirt. “Sperm-tadpoles, huh? That would make a good band name.”

“No it wouldn’t.”

Thomas supported himself with his elbows when Alex started to slide his pants on. “You going already? Breakfast isn’t for a few more hours.”

Alex raised an eyebrow and did his fly. “And what do you suggest, that we go there together, from your room? With me wearing your shirt? Should we hold hands too while we’re at it?”

Thomas frowned. “No.”

“You’re so slow in the mornings.” Alex grinned.

Thomas dropped back down onto the mattress. “I’ll show you exactly how slow the next time you’re begging to come like your life depends on it,” he muttered to the ceiling.

“Make sure you feed the sperm-tadpoles that live in your stomach now. They need nutrients,” Alex said over his shoulder and closely avoided the pillow hurled at his head as he slipped out of the room.

 

~~~

 

A long shower and a failed stretching-attempt later Alex was found helping himself to a second refill of coffee at the hotel’s breakfast buffet. He knew that Jefferson wasn’t much of a breakfast person (didn’t even have toast at his place most of the time), so Alex felt sort of comforted by the assurance of not having the see the man until noon.

It was a strange thing, knowing such a mundane yet intimate detail about Jefferson’s personal life. But he kept asking Alex to stay over despite of his restless sleeping habits and cold feet, so now Alex knew that Jefferson rarely ate breakfast and flossed religiously and slept with his socks on. There was no helping it.

It was also sort of strange, that he had told Alex to stay in his hotel room for the night despite of the increased risk of discovery. Alex could sort of see that Jefferson liked not sleeping alone in his own bed at times, but why here?

It was too early in the morning to try and make sense of that man’s logic, Alex decided.

The scrape of a chair being dragged against the hardwood floor shook Alex out of his reverie.

“Do you mind if I join you?” Washington asked already half in the seat, as if Alex was going to tell him no.

He swallowed a mouthful of croissant so quickly he felt the flakey dough scratch against his throat. “Not at all, sir.”

Washington smiled. “Good.”

Alex did a double take when Washington wasn’t looking at him anymore. He seemed… off. Alex had seen the man sleep-deprived and stressed out a number of times, and the man always fared it well. Even with his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows and the lines at the corners of his eyes more prominent, Washington always maintained that sense of poised calmness.

Maybe it was the fact that he hadn’t shaved yet, or the fact that the shirt he was wearing was creased, but Alex didn’t think he’d ever seen Washington look so tired.

“Sleep well?” Alex probed lightly. He had to; what if his boss was ill? It wouldn’t be ideal but it could be worked around, if certain persons stepped up and took more responsibility-

Washington chuckled, though the sound was more resigned than amused. “Not very well I’m afraid.” He didn’t elaborate further even as Alex shot him a curious look. “I went on a run this morning too. I’ll make an effort to look more presentable before my opening speech, don’t worry.”

Alexander’s cheeks heated up under the amused sideways glance Washington shot him. “I think you look fine, sir,” he blurted and immediately scrambled to change the subject. “It’s pretty impressive you find the energy and motivation to work out in the mornings. I really don’t have the motivation that early, or ever really, but especially right after waking up.”

Washington didn’t seem like he was listening that carefully as he sipped on his coffee. Alex couldn’t blame him. “I find that it clears my head, gets my testosterone flowing,” he said absent mindedly.

Alex cleared his throat and glanced into his near-empty cup, not knowing how to respond.

Washington shook his head and sighed. “Do you remember who’s presenting this evening?”

“Lee is,” Alex said quickly, visualizing the timetable of the conference. “And tomorrow it’s first me and then Thomas.”

Suddenly Washington’s back straightened and he shot Alexander a sharp look, as though he had just shared a surprising piece of information with him. Alex blinked.

“Thomas, huh?” Washington said slowly.

“I,” Alex frowned and nodded. “Yes, at seven.”

Washington’s eyes were on his face, and then on the collar of his sweatshirt, and then his face again. Alex picked up his coffee cup just to occupy his nervous hands.

“I see.” Washington looked at his cup and Alex exhaled covertly. “I see,” he repeated, quieter.

Alex knew from experience not to probe despite of his nerves. Washington would share whatever epiphany he just had if and when he wanted to.

“Do you know why I decided to hire you even though the position was already technically filled?” Washington said after a pause, completely out of nowhere.

Alex blinked in surprise, but his reply came easily. “I proved myself.”

He wasn’t naive even back then. He’d known that the CEO of the goddamn company wouldn’t remember some intern when he’d received that business card. He’d known that he was facing an uphill climb from there to an actual desk with a nameplate, and he had been _thrilled._

“You did,” Washington smiled in a reminiscent kind of way. “You always worked like someone who hasn’t been handed a thing on a plate in their life, and I’ll be first to admit that isn’t something you often come by in this line of work. It is the nature of privilege.”

Alex thought about Thomas’ lazy, self-assured brand of intelligence and smiled to himself. “Thank you?”

“That said,” Washington carried on what was starting to feel like a monologue. “There are certain… indulgences that one gives up with the privilege of enjoying a status as high as myself.”

 _Why are we speaking in code all of a sudden?_ Alex wasn’t following Washington’s line of thought whatsoever. It was like he was missing a crucial piece of a codex needed to decipher this maze of a conversation he’d just stumbled into. “...Indulgences?” he said slowly.

Washington rubbed a hand over his eyes and sighed. The stringent line of his shoulders made him look conflicted - Alex knew that stance from those intense meetings where he and someone else (usually Thomas) had a valid point and more than enough passion to back it up.

“So we are in agreement that I saw and appreciated your work ethic and raw intelligence and hired you because of it?” Washington asked with a slightly strained voice.

Alex nodded slowly, and then realized that Washington couldn’t see him from behind the palm he was leaning on. “Uh, yes?”

Washington straightened up and looked at Alex again, slow and considering, and then nodded to himself. “Very well. Let’s go.”

He downed the rest of his coffee and stood up. Alexander scrambled to follow suit, his mind skimming for possible explanations for where the situation was supposed to be going. He couldn’t read the subtext of these cryptic statements at all, nor the strange tension that had slipped into the tone of the conversation when he hadn’t been looking. Was Washington angry with him for something? Alex couldn’t say for sure that he hadn’t _done_ something (that was usually untrue), but he had no idea what could possibly make Washington lead him out of the bustle of the restaurant and on a seemingly random corridor leading nowhere in particular.

Alex had to half-jog to keep up with his boss (those long, thick legs really were the bane of his existence), so when Washington rounded a corner and stopped abruptly he almost bumped into his back.

It was a completely empty corridor. The way they were standing left Alexander’s back towards the more populated part of the hotel, made it very easy for him to leave the situation. The way Washington looked down at him made him wish he was backed into a corner instead.

“If I’m wrong about this, I want you to back out of it,” Washington said. Alexander’s heart was speeding up for reasons unrelated to his recent bout of speed walking.

The first step Washington took towards him looked like a question, and the second one like a decision. Alex found himself trapped between two walls, one of which was made of concrete and the other one of muscle. ‘Trapped’ being a very relative word here. It had to be a dream, this couldn’t actually be happening-

Washington’s mouth tasted like coffee, which was probably mutual, and the stubble Alex had noted earlier scraped against his skin as Washington grabbed his jaw and tilted his head back. Alex scrambled for a hold on his broad shoulders to keep him upright and two steady hands pinned him into the wall. Washington had acted like he half expected Alex to run away screaming just a moment ago but now he _knew,_ Alex could tell, Washington knew Alex wanted him to take and take whatever he wanted, and Washington did with an exploring tongue in Alexander's slack mouth and a thigh pressing between his legs until he ran out of breath and his knees buckled.

Or it was a start, at least. One that left Alexander panting and his face burning hot when Washington pulled back and looked down at him with a startling mixture of seriousness and satisfaction in his dark eyes.

“Am I making my intentions clear with you, Alexander?”

The look Washington was giving Alex pinned him into the wall more efficiently than his broad palms ever could. It took Alex a few lingering seconds to understand the question wasn’t rhetorical, and a few more to realize Washington wasn’t satisfied with a weak nod.

“Yes, sir,” he croaked.

His boss stared him down for a few more tense moments, nodded and took a step back. Alex was grateful to his legs for keeping him upright, somehow. “Good.” Washington reached into his pocket and placed a cool piece of plastic into Alexander’s hands. “I’ll be in my suite from 9 pm onwards this evening. I won’t take it to heart if you choose not to come, and we can pretend this never happened if that is what you would prefer. The choice is entirely yours.” This time around he settled on a silent nod from Alex.

He stayed frozen in place for a long time after Washington was gone, clutching the keycard between his clammy fingers like a lifeline.

“Holy shit,” he whispered to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do recognize the irony in having George the Slave Owner Washington decry unpaid internships in a modern adaptation. Drag me.
> 
> [[Obligatory tumblr plug](https://nightshiftblues.tumblr.com/)]


	10. Rule #2

Observing Washington over the course of the day almost convinced Alex he had somehow dreamt up the entire hallway-incident.

It wasn’t as though he’d been expecting eyefucking or playing footsie under the table (though a man could dream), but. Washington’s eyes didn’t linger even a little bit, though his gaze didn’t avoid Alexander either. He gave a fantastic opening speech at noon, all tall and handsome on the little conference room podium, and seemed charming and attentive all throughout the string of wannabe TED talks that followed. There was no trace of the sleep deprivation Alex had so easily observed earlier, either. It was as though the whole breakfast had been some strange fever dream.

But regardless, there was an extra keycard carefully tucked into Alexander’s breast pocket. Every now and again he would reach into his jacket just to brush his fingertips against the solid material. The conference was as good as lost on him, but really, who could blame him?

The one thing that did manage to catch his attention outside of the Washington-sphere was John getting up between presentations and heading for the smoking area.

When Alex slipped out after him, John dutifully held out his pack of cigarettes albeit one of his brows raised. They both knew Alex hadn’t smoked since college.

“That bad already?”

Alex shrugged and fumbled with the lighter. “Hangover cigarette.”

“Right.” John eyed at Alex through the mouthful of smoke he exhaled. “I don’t remember seeing you at all towards the end of the night, actually.”

“No?” Alex played for time by inhaling deep and holding the smoke in his lungs as long as he could. The sting invigorated him slightly. “I was actually having an interesting talk with Burr for the better part of the night if you can believe it,” he said eventually.

There was a fair chance Burr would actually back his story up if it came down to it. He would be too curious not to, and remember the favor Alex would owe him for the courtesy. It wasn’t ideal, but it would have to make do.

He masked his grimace with a playful grin. “The guy’s actually not that bad once you get a few drinks into him. We got along pretty well by the end of the night.”

John’s eyes narrowed. “When you say ‘got along’, you don’t mean..?”

“No!” Alex inhaled wrong and ended up coughing up a lungful. He glared at John with his watering eyes. “God, no, it would take a barful of vodka to get me to fall into bed with that guy.”

“Really?” John crossed his arms, and this time it was him who was grinning. “Quite impressive that you actually said that with a straight face after, what, seven years of staring at his ass?”

Alex forcefully regained his composure and straightened his back. A stress-cigarette was not worth going through this. “It’s not his ass that I take issue with,“ he muttered, glancing at their surroundings self-consciously. “Believe it or not, my dick doesn’t completely blind me to my principles when it comes to sleeping with the enemy.” Saying that alone made Alex cringe hard enough internally, might as well go the whole ten yards. “I mean, what do you take me for?”

“Do you really want me to answer that question?” Alex made a face and John only smiled innocuously in return, raising his hands up in surrender. “Hey, whatever you say man.”

Alex sucked on his dwindling cigarette and sulked. Frankly, all the better if John didn’t fully believe him; it would only throw him further off-course from discovering the truth. There were far worse conclusions to be drawn here, after all.

Yeah, the cig wasn’t helping that much. If anything it made Alex anxious about the prospect of his mouth tasting like an ashtray later that evening when Washington would - when he would see Washington. As if he wasn’t going to chuck a bottle of mouthwash beforehand. He knew that Washington didn’t smoke (Alex was pretty sure he didn’t even put refined sugars into that body of his), but what if he was one of those people who could smell the smoke on a person’s clothes half a mile away and made a big deal about it? Then what?

Alex was pretty sure the last time he had been this ridiculously anxious about a hookup he’d been a virgin. It was almost like Washington was going to deflower him rather than nail him for a few hours to fulfil whatever power play-thing had going on and call it a night. The thought was so absurdly funny that Alex had to mask a snort with another coughing fit.

“Want another one, for good luck?” John asked, smiling gently, as they extinguished the cigarette butts. Alex really must have looked worse for wear.

“I’m good.” He forced a grin. “Not all of us enjoy leeching extra break time off of our lethal addictions.”

John bumped into Alex with his hip as they stepped back inside, sending him stumbling ungracefully into the lobby.

“Jerk.”

 

~~~

 

Considering the sheer amount of time Alex had spent staring at the fateful keycard living in his left breast pocket, it really ought to have occurred to him earlier that the number (654) on said keycard was awfully familiar.

As it were, the implication only sank in at 8:57 pm, as Alex was facing a perplexed-looking Thomas on the hallway.

“Alex,” Thomas stated, his palm lightly resting on the door handle of room 655. “Should have told me you were coming over, I was gonna pop to the gym.”

“Yeah.” Alexander’s eyes skimmed over the muscle tank Thomas was wearing, and the expensive yet comfy-looking sweatpants laying low on his hips. “That’s alright, I was-“ Alex suppressed the sudden, unwelcome impulse to lie. He had nothing to hide. “I was actually going to meet Washington for a bit.”

Maybe it has his nerves, but it was almost like time slowed down to a crawl and the air between them turned cold and thick for a moment there.

“Right,” Thomas said slowly.

The fact that he didn’t ask for any kind of elaboration meant that he understood. He knew, and he knew Alex knew that he knew. After all, Jefferson if anyone would know what kind of an occasion Alex wore a neat ponytail, his nicest button down and a tight pair of jeans for.

Alex kept waiting for a line, a hook, anything to grab onto so they could have a part-hateful, part-playful banter about this the way they’d have about literally anything else, but Thomas yanked on the handle and the door of his room locked with a decisive click, and all Alex was left with was an off-handed “enjoy your night” and an empty corridor.

He took a shallow breath and wiped his clammy palms on his jeans. Of course Thomas would get all frosty over not being the sole focus of attention for one evening. He should have expected this.

Whatever.

Alex had been humiliatingly slow all day, but the puzzle pieces were snapping in place and forming something resembling a coherent picture as he stepped up to Washington’s door. The facts were that Washington had slept all this time next door to Thomas and, in all realisticness, heard everything. The sheer mortifying humiliation of that alone set aside, this had somehow lead to Washington deciding he wanted to… screw Alex himself?

In addition to all that, there was also the fact that Thomas must have known, the entire time. He had known when he had tugged on Alexander’s hair, he had known when he had issued that command – _say my name_  - like it was something he’d thought about many times before. Alex certainly felt some type of way about it, but that was as far as introspection would take him. He could sort that one out when his heart wasn’t busy trying to escape his chest because he was about to slip into _George motherfucking Washington’s_ private suite like some mid-tier rent boy. Priorities.

He knocked briefly before sliding in the keycard (which sort of undermined the whole discretion-related point of having a keycard in the first place, but he wasn’t going to just waltz in).

Washington’s room was a perfect mirror image of Thomas’, down to the thick maroon curtains and the tidy manner it was kept in. The man himself was lounging on the bed, a kindle in hand, stripped down to his shirt and pants. Alex got the impression Washington had been intent on enjoying his evening regardless of whether Alex showed up or not. The pleased smile quirking up the corner of his mouth sent a pleased shiver down Alexander’s spine. He would really need to toughen up if he wanted to survive this.

“You came.” Washington set the kindle aside and took off his reading glasses, but otherwise made no move to sit up.

Alex leaned against the door and shrugged. “You were quite persuasive, sir.”

“Hm,” Washington’s eyes traveled down Alexander’s frame and set his insides into a spiral. “Not as persuasive as intended, surely, if you’re planning on spending the night all the way over there.”

Coming from Thomas, the line would have been a mean spirited jab, but there was nothing sharp or biting to Washington’s expression - only calmness and a touch of amusement. Curiosity. Alex made a point of slowly pushing himself off the door, and crossing the distance to the foot of the bed in careless, lazy steps.

Washington’s leveled eyes were carving a hole into his brain and he needed to know before he’d lose all his thinking capacity. Alex licked his lips. “Why now?”

Slowly, like he was cautious of scaring off a prey animal (or a stray cat), Washington sat up, pushed himself off the bed and circled behind Alexander. He knew even without being told that he was to stay put, so he did.

“I’ve always prided myself in my ability to tell the difference between what I want and what I need,” Washington said casually as he undid the top button of Alexander’s shirt. Alex could just so make out their blurry silhouettes reflected on the window and tried not to get too distracted over the way Washington towered over him. “Furthermore, I consider myself capable of denying myself the things I don’t need.”

What was it that he’d said during breakfast? _Deprive oneself of certain indulgences._ Something like that. Alex nodded to show he was following.

Washington undid the last button and slid Alexander’s shirt down his arms. He shivered under the brush of knuckles against the flesh of his biceps. “However,” Washington paused to undo Alexander’s belt, and there was a hint of roughness to the action now, “when something is being dangled tauntingly right in front of me, a man can’t help but rise to the challenge.”

Alexander’s face heated up. There was a twinge of agitation there, too. “So this is about Jefferson?”

Washington popped the button of Alexander’s jeans and chuckled. “No, I can assure you this is not about Thomas.”

“No?”

There was something else, something possibly snarky burning on Alexander’s lips, but then his head was yanked back from his ponytail and Washington’s palm was splayed against his lower stomach, stroking slowly up and down his front and his train of thought was as good as gone.

“What a gorgeous creature you are,” Washington murmured into the crook of Alexander’s neck. “Can you get on the bed on your hands and knees for me?”

Alex nodded weakly. “Yes, sir.”

He fumbled his pants and boxers off and knelt on the edge of the bed. With a very unusual twinge of self-consciousness, Alex planted his palms onto the mattress and bent down until his face and shoulders were buried into the duvet.

The pleased grunt Washington let out behind him made Alex exhale in relief.

“That’s my boy.” Two wide, slightly calloused palms swept down Alexander’s sides and over the curve of his ass, finger tips digging into the flesh slightly like a promise, and Alex could have honest to god sobbed with how good it was. Washington had barely touched him and he was already turning into hot wax under his hands. “Pretty, tempting little thing. How could I resist?”

Alex groaned softly into the bedsheets and pushed back until his ass was even more shamelessly on display. “Please, sir.”

The backs of Washington’s knuckles brushed over the underside of Alexander’s thigh, which was still smooth from when he had shaved for Thomas. Alex wondered if there were marks there, reminders of the one that had gotten to him first. He wondered whether he hoped there were.

“Please what?”

Alex buried his face into the duvet and banished all thoughts of room 655 from his mind. “Please fuck me, sir.”

Some rustling, tearing of a package and a slow, gradual pressure on Alexander’s hole. He was gasping already.

“Relax,” Washington murmured as he fingered Alex slowly and methodologically. Alex bit into his lower lip and tried to relax as he was worked open. “That’s it, good boy. If you take my cock as well as you’re taking my fingers right now, I’ll be very pleased with you.”

“If your cock is half as good as your fingers,” Alex panted into the bedsheets, “I’ll be very pleased with you.”

Washington’s laugh sounded so genuine Alex could feel the tips of his ears heating up. That sound combined with the feeling of two long, capable fingers stroking his prostate like there was a neon sign pointing to its location made him so hard Alex almost hoped he’d brought that cock ring along.

“Please, sir,” Alex whined and cringed at how broken and needy he sounded already. “Please, I’m ready.”

“You’re ready?” Washington sounded something between perplexed and amused. “We’ve barely gotten started.”

He slowed the thrusts of his fingers into tantalizing strokes and Alex could feel the fabric of the sheet creasing under his grip. “Please,” he pleaded. “I want to feel you tomorrow, every time I walk and every time I have to sit through a presentation.”

He wanted it to hurt. So much he could feel and remember nothing else, not during or after. By some miracle Alex was getting what he wanted for once, and he wasn’t about to let it go to waste.

Washington hummed, followed by a contemplative silence. “Since you asked so nicely.”

His fingers withdrew and Alex held his breath in anticipation as Washington undid his belt buckle and zipper, rolled a condom on and lubed up. He was still nearly fully clothed while Alex was completely naked. He couldn't even see his boss while being completely on display himself. Alex could have sworn he’d had a dream or two about this exact scenario before. It was almost eerie.

“I’m going to trust you to tell me if it’s too much,” Washington said, a hand resting on Alexander's lower back.

Alex nodded frantically. “I will, promise. Please, sir.”

“Good boy.”

Washington wordlessly pushed Alexander’s knees together and, without further reassurances, pushed in with slow, shallow thrusts until Alexander’s body yielded to the stretch and accommodated his size. Which was… considerable. Alex made a note of having a good look at his boss before leaving in case this would never happen again. He probably looked like a god right about now, hands on Alexander’s hips keeping him still as he stretched him out with every thrust. It stung, of course, but it almost felt like Alexander’s body knew it had no choice but to take whatever Washington gave him, like it was made for that purpose. Which was a silly thought to have during a meaningless hook up, but it wasn’t like logical thought was an option when Alex was being fucked into the mattress like this.

Scratch that, nothing that felt this good could be meaningless. Washington snapped his hips forward until he was buried inside Alex to the hilt, and Alex moaned so loudly he nearly startled himself. He bit into his bottom lip, but it was no use when Washington slowly pulled out and thrusted fully back in again. _Thomas isn’t in, anyway,_ Alex thought as more cries escaped his lips. It didn’t matter.

Save for a few restrained grunts, Washington was quiet. A twinge of apprehension seeped through the euphoric haze Alex was falling into. With great effort, he twisted to gaze at Washington through his lashes in a way he hoped was coming across as tantalizing. “Is it good for you, sir?”

Washington smiled down at Alex reassuringly. Alex had been right; standing by the bed all casual and domineering, his forehead glistening with sweat and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows was a good look on Washington. To say the least.

“No need to feel self conscious about my silence, Alexander,” he said, and Alexander’s gut churned slightly with how easily Washington had seen through his porn dialogue-like line. “I’m more focussed on listening to your pretty moans right now.”

Washington grabbed the back of Alexander’s neck and moved him further into the bed easy as anything, like he weighed nothing at all. “Spread your legs for me.”

“Oh God,”, Alex whimpered into his crossed arms when Washington joined him on the bed. He’d thought Washington had been fucking him a minute ago, but clearly that had been mere preamble. _This_ was the main part of the act; one hand clamped over the back of Alexander’s neck and another one on his hip keeping his still, and every thrust sending a jolt of lung-emptying pleasure up his spine. Washington was an incomprehensible mixture of controlled and rough, like he was simultaneously taking whatever he wanted while still holding back. It didn’t make sense, but somehow Alex felt used and degraded, and yet also _taken care of_ , based on the way Washington varied the pace of his thrusts with the clear intent or turning his insides into jelly.

Alex couldn't tell whether his thigh muscles were aching from the physical exertion or from the mind-numbing pleasure he was enduring. He needed to do something before he’d get too carried away.

“Sir,” he gasped between his ragged moans. “Let- let me suck you off.”

There was a low grunt and a pair of teeth rasped over Alexander’s shoulder blade. “Had enough already?” The tight restraint in Washington’s voice made Alex secretly preen in delight - he wasn’t the only one affected at least, as if the hardness currently drilling into him wasn’t proof enough.

“No,” he managed to sigh between moans. “No I’m- I won’t last long like this.”

That one wasn’t a line - Alex could feel the oncoming orgasm gnawing at the edges of his consciousness and he wasn’t ready for this to end.

Washington made a sound that was somewhere between a grunt and a chuckle and pinned Alex into the mattress with his upper body, speeding up his thrusts. “Then be a good boy and come for me.”

“But sir, I-”

 _“Now,_ Alexander.”

It was no use. Even with all his submissive kinks and hours spent on his knees, Alex had his words and his flirty looks and his swaying hips. He had the kind of control that he could usually sneak right past whoever was pinning him down at the moment, the kind that enabled him to make them do whatever he wanted -fuck him however he wanted- without them even realizing it.

Washington didn’t play that game. All Alex could do was surrender.

“Fuck, oh God,” he moaned with a shrill, broken voice as he came. He could tell vaguely that Washington was talking, calling him ‘sweet’ and ‘good’ and some other things, he really couldn’t register most of it. He pushed back weakly to meet the slow rolls of Washington’s hips until the aftershocks turned into oversensitivity, and then some. It could go on until they’d get reported as missing for all he cared.

It was Washington who eventually pulled out, discarded the condom while Alex slumped down, and pulled the covers aside.

Alex blinked groggily and cleared his throat. “Sir, I’ll suck you off, you still haven’t-” he protested as he was being laid down.

Washington shook his head and wrapped an arm around his middle with an ease that seemed very habitual. “Don’t worry about that.” Alex opened his mouth to protest, but was silenced by the feeling of a warm, large hand threading through his hair. “Rest for a while, and you can follow through with that offer when you're ready for round two.”

Yet again, all Alex could do was surrender.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternative chapter name: heRE COMES THE GENERAL
> 
> [[Obligatory tumblr plug](https://nightshiftblues.tumblr.com/)]


	11. Rule #6

As someone who passed high school English with top marks, Thomas knew the difference between envy and jealousy. Envying someone meant wanting something they had, while jealousy meant fearing something would be taken away from you.

It made sense that Thomas envied Hamilton - the asshole had somehow gotten exactly what he wanted without having to sacrifice a goddamn thing for it. Alex had pined after Washington and it had worked out for him, while pining after James would never work out for Thomas. God knew there was nothing graceful about envying Alexander, and he wasn’t proud of it, but it made sense in a way.

Thomas’ jealousy, meanwhile, was reserved for James and James alone. It was the rotten claw that squeezed at his chest whenever his best friend’s hand landed on Dolley’s lower back as they were ordering drinks, whenever they shared a secret smile over some inside joke Thomas wasn’t privy to over the dinner table. Being jealous over James was like second nature to him at this point. It was an ugly, secret aspect of his personality, and it didn’t _belong_ to Hamilton to any capacity.

So whatever it was that Thomas felt when Alexander openly entered Washington’s car at the end of the conference like some stereotypical callboy, it couldn’t be jealousy. If anything, it was annoyance over how shamelessly obvious they were being, like it didn’t matter who knew. He had overheard Alex telling Laurens that Washington had offered him a ride because they had ‘work matters’ to discuss, but surely absolutely no one was buying that. Surely it was as plainly clear to everyone that they were fucking as it was to Thomas.

He wasn’t about to make the mistake of being jealous over something that never belonged to him in the first place for a second time. Washington was free to have Alex for all he cared.

He just wished they weren’t being so tacky about it.

And that, Thomas reasoned, was why he had pocketed a certain remote control after waking up to an extremely provocative Snapchat from Alex. He honestly had no clue why the guy still seemed keen on messing around now that he’d won the grand prize, but saying no to Alex would have meant that there was _a problem._ And here wasn’t.

The obnoxious midday sun filtered between the flimsy office blinds, drawing harsh streaks of light vertically across Alexander’s face, sitting across the meeting room table. At Washington’s right-hand side, like always. Someone was reading out a debrief, but it was mere background noise to Thomas; it was really just a recap of all business conducted at the conference for the benefit of co-chair Adams, who hadn't bothered to show up to the conference to the shock of absolutely no one.

Thomas reached into his pocket and jabbed at a button, observing how the glossed over expression in Hamilton’s eyes zapped into focus as if he’d been electrocuted. His shoulders jumped and rolled back into a clumsy-looking stretch. Thomas’ lips quirked up slightly.

“And that’s about it,” Wilkinson concluded. “Does anyone have anything to add?”

“Thank you.” Washington nodded at the man and gestured nonchalantly towards Alexander. “Hamilton, you spent a considerable amount of time speaking with Van Steuben. Did he bring up anything of interest?”

Washington didn’t even glance Thomas’ way, even though he’d been at that table too, talking to Van Steuben all evening. Or, well, as long as he had managed to restrain himself from dragging Alex into his room. The point was that the bias was plain to see to anyone with a working pair of eyes and half a brain cell. As was the way Alex glanced at his boss and quickly averted his eyes as if he’d looked straight into the sun.

“Uh, well.” Alex cleared his throat and shifted in his chair. On a different day Thomas would have given him a break - probably. He reached into his pocket and made direct eye contact as he pressed on a button. Setting number three.

Alexander glared, but powered on with admirable determination. “I think he said… I actually brought up our shifting stance on the, uh… the French shareholders. That was the only matter of business we had the chance to discuss before getting into his favorite vintages of red wine.”

Thomas reached into his pocket and pressed the off-button. Alex blinked.

“Well, appropriately enough the Baron just laughed at-” Thomas piped up but was cut short by Washington’s raised hand.

“As much as I’m sure we would all love to revisit that conversation,” he said with a tinge of exhaustion in his voice, “I think we ought to leave that to a different meeting and wrap up here for today.”

It was strange, how similar it all was to the way things had been before the conference. Outwardly the setting was exactly the same; Alex and Thomas on the opposite sides of the table, and Washington between them, keeping them from ripping each other’s throats out.

The room filled with floor-scraping chairs and idle chatter. Alexander’s fingers tapped on Thomas’ shoulder as he passed him, sharp and quick.

Thomas bit down onto his lower lip until his smile was sufficiently suppressed, and made to stand up, only to be stopped by a hand lightly curling around the bend of his arm. He’d somehow forgotten about a crucial set piece - James, always at his side.

“We need to talk,” James said and the quiet insistence in his eyes made Thomas’ breath catch slightly.

He hesitated for half a second, still awkwardly half out of his chair, and then slowly pulled his arm out of the light grip. “We’ll get lunch.”

“Thomas…”

“I really need to go check something,” he mumbled, looking everywhere except into those dark, inquisitive eyes. Or towards Washington still sat at the end of the table. He picked up his things and stepped out of the room without another word.

Probably something to do with the baby, or work. It could wait.

Thomas’ legs carried him to his office, where he found Alexander pacing its length with his arms tightly crossed across his chest. He stopped and spun around as if the sound of Thomas closing and locking the door was an unwelcome surprise to him. The look on his face gave Thomas pause - it wasn’t the kind of playful intensity he’d expected. Alex always looked sort of pissed off when he wanted Thomas to fuck him (partly at Thomas, partly at himself), but now there was something like genuine anger there. A cold harshness he hadn’t seen in a while.

“What the fuck,” Alex hissed, “was that?”

Thomas took a slow step into the office. “What was what?”

Alex scoffed and stepped backwards as if Thomas’ mere presence offended him. “Don’t play dumb with me, that shouldn’t even be possible for someone who holds opinions as moronic as you do.”

Thomas’ confusion evaporated and was replaced by an anger that matched Alexander’s. “Look, in case you haven’t noticed we’re both grown men over here, so either you can say what the fuck your problem is, or-”

It was like Alexander had only been trying to get Thomas to talk so he could interrupt him. “What kind of Pavlov’s dog bullshit was that?” he snapped. “I took high school psychology too, prick, I know what you’re trying to do.”

Thomas stepped towards Alex and this time his movement was matched, bringing them at an arm’s reach from each other at the center of the room. “What the fuck are you on about?” He barely kept his voice low enough not to carry.

Alexander gestured impatiently. “You think you can just turn off the vibrations as soon as I bring up an opinion you don’t agree with? You’re really gonna bring work into this? That’s really scummy, even from you.” Alex poked at Thomas’ chest for emphasis, and he actually fell a step back just from the sheer absurdity of it.

For a moment there was nothing but the dull ticking of the clock mounted on the wall and their slightly accelerated breathing.

“Firstly,” Thomas hissed, catching Alexander’s hand, “I did not just hear you say ‘bring work into this’ when you’re the one who decided to wear a _sex toy_ to a meeting.” He stepped forward and towered over Alexander. “Secondly, I stopped the vibrations because you said the word ‘red’.“ He enunciated every word carefully, his cold eyes unblinkingly fixated on Alexander’s defiant ones. “Because that is what you do when the safeword is said.”

They stood nearly chest to chest in complete silence for a few beats.

“Oh,” Alexander said.

Thomas released his hand and stepped back. “Please get out of my office.”

The silence stretched on as he walked up to his desk and picked up a folder, really just so that he could pretend to look at it. Alexander stood silently for a moment, probably gritting his teeth. Instead of charging for the door (which was what Thomas was fully expecting), he took a few slow steps until he was stood behind Thomas.

Thomas let himself be spun around even though he wasn’t… ready for this tension to go away. Like it was all good now.

“My bad,” Alex muttered as he sank down to his knees.

“Sorry, what was that?”

“Fuck you.”

Alexander’s hair was down today. Thomas gathered the strands into his fist and pulled until his gaze was being met. “I think you’re confused. Washington’s office is two more stories up.”

Alex smiled as if Thomas was missing something obvious. “He’s a busy man. I won’t bother him at work.”

Thomas resisted the urge to grit his teeth. “So it’s just fancy hotels and expensive champagne for you two, huh?”

There was a crack in Alexander’s boyish smile now, something Thomas would have missed a few months ago. “It’s not _like_ that,” he said, his voice tight and pingy. “He doesn’t buy me shit.” That tone reminded Thomas about the hanger-conversation for some reason. That defensive and sore undertone.

Thomas leaned against the edge of his desk and smiled down at Alex, reveling in this scrap of control he seemed to have regained. No one should be allowed to look that good under the awful yellow-tinted office lights. Especially someone as visibly sleep-deprived as Alexander.

“No?” Thomas smirked. “You’re screwing your boss but there’s nothing transactional to it whatsoever? I can tell that thought doesn’t help you sleep at night.”

The kindling of fire in Alexander’s eyes died down quick and Thomas could practically see the gears change. Alex clicked his tongue and ran his palms slowly up Thomas’ thigh muscles. Thomas may have been the one who had gotten accused of 'Pavlov’s dog bullshit', but there was definitely something to be said about the twitch of interest merely seeing Alexander on his knees evoked in him.

Alexander’s voice had gone from a defensive hiss into a low purr. “If it bothers you so much, tell me to leave.”

Thomas pretended he didn’t hear the lightheaded chuckle on the back of Alexander’s throat as he gave that taunting mouth something better to do.

A problem. Jealousy. There were plenty of words at Thomas’ disposal to describe what this thing between him and Hamilton was not, but that wasn’t getting him very far. There probably was no accurate word in the dictionary for the feeling stirring somewhere between his gut and chest when Alex went to tug a stray strand of hair behind his ear but waited until Thomas gathered it into his fist instead. Not at least in any of the four languages Thomas could speak at an acceptable level.

Whatever it was, Thomas was starting to understand that he couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check out this [dank meme](https://sapphire-stars.tumblr.com/post/174509274661/thomas-in-chapter-8-lmao-washingtons-missing-tf)


	12. Rule #8

“You know what I absolutely despise about you?”

Thomas took the time to lick his spoon before responding. As much as the diner left him feeling like he needed a tetanus shot after every visit, he had to admit their all-day breakfast menu wasn’t half bad.

Alexander peered at him from across the table with impatient malice, clearly set on not sharing his revelation without being prompted.

Thomas set the spoon down and pushed his plate aside. “Do tell.”

“You always leave the dregs.” Alex gestured at the half-eaten pancake lying in a puddle of sauce on the plate. “A couple bites of food, half an ounce of coffee. It’s too consistent to not be deliberate. You’re eating pancakes with caramel sauce for Christ’s sake, do you really think eating only four fifths of the portion is gonna make a difference?”

Thomas shrugged. “It’s my cheat day.”

“Okay, now you’re just trying to piss me off.”

Thomas repressed a smile and pushed the plate towards Alexander. “If it bothers you so much, you finish it.”

Alex made a face. “I don’t like having sweet things this early on.”

“Firstly, it’s almost three,” Thomas pointed out, “and secondly, it’s salted caramel.”

“And?” Alex leaned into his palm and twirled a loose strand of hair between his fingers. “The salt in salted caramel only sets off the sweetness, making it even sweeter than regular caramel. Of course, it has the potential to be more than that, and to actually taste interesting and different, but most brands jumping on the salted caramel-bandwagon don’t have the balls to actually make it salty.”

“Jesus Christ.” Thomas rubbed at his temples. If there was a conversational topic on earth that Alex didn’t have a strong and disturbingly thought-out stance on, he was yet to discover it.

“That said,” Alex picked up the remaining pancake, with his bare fingers to Thomas’ disgust, “wasting food is even bigger an evil than badly executed food trends.” He plopped the pancake into his mouth.

“You could have used a fork.” Thomas grimaced. “God knows where your fingers have been.”

“Maybe you should learn to finish your meals like a big boy, then,” Alex smiled.

The fact that he didn’t make a lewd comment about where his ‘fingers had been’ despite of the easy opening Thomas had foolishly given him threw Thomas off his rhythm and left him grappling for a comeback. “Whatever,” he ended up mumbling lamely.

“So.” Alex picked up a napkin and started folding and unfolding it methodologically. Thomas knew from experience he would start shredding it into thin strips sometime soon. “What’s on the agenda today?”

Thomas threw an arm over the worn, hotrod red backrest of his seat. He had to make a conscious effort to look at Alex instead of gazing away awkwardly. He was a firm believer in the philosophy that most things were only awkward when you made them awkward.

“Do you think we should change the safeword?” he said, eyes trained on Alexander’s impassive face. “You know, to avoid… the confusion of the other day.”

As expected, Alex started to pull at the napkin slowly, careful to maintain a neat tear. “No, I…” He licked his lips. “It’s alright, I’m the one who jumped into conclusions.”

The novel experience of Alexander Hamilton kind of apologizing created some sort of a lag in Thomas’ brain. At a loss for what to say, he cast his eyes down to the tacky checkered tablecloth.

“And I appreciate it, by the way, what you did,” Alex said. It sounded like a lot of effort.

Thomas frowned. “It was the bare minimum. It doesn’t warrant praise.”

Alex shrugged. The napkin was halfway shredded now. “I know, but that’s how it is _in theory._ Most… doms, or whatever, don’t exactly jump to heed the safeword.”

He must have seen the alarmed look in Thomas’ eyes since he stumbled into the next sentence with a sense of urgency. “I mean it’s not like _that,_ they do respect it, it’s just…” Alex waved his hand impatiently. “Whatever, forget I said anything.”

Thomas leaned back and chewed on his lower lip. “I think you may just have a bad taste in men.” He smiled. “I mean, I would know.”

An exaggerated expression of sock spread across Alexander’s face. “Thomas Jefferson engaging in self-deprecating humor? Am I _dreaming?”_

Thomas snorted. “Don’t get used to it.”

Alex huffed. “Besides, you’re not.”

“What?”

Alex crossed his arms and gazed out of the window. “A good representation of my taste in men.”

Thomas raised an eyebrow, unsure of how to appraise this statement. “Am I not?”

Alex seemed sunken somewhere deep into his thoughts. Thomas’ eyes roamed idly across his delicate frame, taking in the way afternoon sun fell on his cheekbones. Alexander’s skin had always been eager to take in the seasonal changes in light, quickly turning a deep copper-like shade during the summertime. The kisses of the previous summer’s heat waves had completely faded by now, leaving his complexion a cooler tone. It probably resembled the sands of the beaches Thomas imagined stretched across the shores of whatever island Hamilton originated from. The name of it eluded him; Alex wasn’t very forthcoming when it came to talking about his home country and Thomas had never cared enough to pry.

By the time Alex looked at him, Thomas had shifted his gaze to his own fingernails.

“Anything else?” Alex prompted.

“Not really.” Thomas shrugged. “Did you need a ride home?” The backseat of his car was stained already, it was a lost cause.

Alex rubbed the back of his head, almost looking bashful in a way. “Nah, I have a thing.”

It wouldn’t have bothered Thomas, had it not been the exact phrase and tone he always used when he didn’t want to piss of someone he was sort-of-dating-but-not-really by telling them he was hooking up with someone else.

“Cool,” he muttered. “Tell Washington I said hi.”

Alex frowned, but the red spreading across his cheeks and up to the tip of his ears said enough. “I’m sorry, is there a-“

“No you’re not,” Thomas deadpanned and they both paused to stare each other down.

“No,” Alex said slowly. “I’m not, because there’s nothing to be sorry about.”

Thomas uncurled his fingers. “Exactly.”

“Great.”

As Thomas dug a bill out of his wallet (Alex let him get the check if he got to take care of the tip), he couldn’t help but beat himself up over ruining this brief moment of levity they had been experiencing. Those were hard enough to come by even without picking fights over nothing.

“See you tomorrow,” he told Alex at the parking lot before they went their separate ways.

“Enjoy your ‘cheat day’, Brenda,” he said over his shoulder and that was that.

Thomas ended up sitting in his car without turning the ignition for an indeterminate amount of time. Since when did it matter that Alex walked away from him pissed off? Since when was this bi-weekly diner rendezvous supposed to be _pleasant,_ rather than a tedious necessity?

His pocket vibrated and Thomas fished his phone out, shaking his head.

_From: Jimmy James_

_Are you home?_

Thomas felt too spiritually drained to come up with an excuse good enough to fool James, if there even was such a thing. _Yea,_ he texted back.

James was freakishly quick to respond.

_From: Jimmy James_

_be there in 7_

Well, this had backfired.

Thomas cursed under his breath as the engine shuddered to life. Out of all possible times for James to become an overly pushy friend out of nowhere, he just had to pick this one.

Three semi-legal maneuvers and an extremely likely speeding ticket later he was sprawled over the couch in his living room, trying to convince his quickened pulse that that was where he had spent his afternoon.

James arrived at his doorstep in eight minutes. Thomas opened the door with a bored, slightly curious expression plastered on.

His friend shrugged nonchalantly. “We never had lunch.”

They didn’t – Thomas had spent it nailing Hamilton on his office desk and made an excuse afterwards. James was the only person save for Thomas’ mother who could make him feel incredibly guilty with nothing but a leveled stare.

“Do you… want to get lunch now?” he asked.

James shook his head. “Dolley made a casserole. I had some for you in a takeout box but forgot to bring it.”

“Again, I have to wonder about that new medication of yours.” Thomas leaned into the doorframe with his arms crossed. “What is this about, James?”

James shrugged. “We could go get pedicures?”

Thomas was caught so off guard his laugh came out loud and chopped. “Really? It’s been like, what, five years?”

James smiled. “All the more reason to revive the tradition. I’m sure my soles could use some work.”

“Did Dolley put you up to this? Did she get sick of sharing a bed with your disgusting feet?”

James was already halfway down the steps of the porch. “She takes care of herself for me, it’s only fair I do the same.”

Shaking his head, Thomas obediently followed James to the driveway and to his car.

His mistake only started to dawn on him when they were both sat in the car and James was staring off into the distance, his hands folded on top of the steering wheel, making no move to start the engine. Stray leaves were falling from the trees lining the street. A few colorful ones landed on the windshield. It would have been quite scenic if it wasn’t for the cold sense of dread slowly creeping up Thomas’ spine.

“James..?” Thomas prompted cautiously. “Is… everything alright?”

“I suppose that’s up to you,” James sighed. From his profile alone, Thomas couldn’t quite make sense of his expression. “There’s no point beating around the bush. You like Hamilton. Hamilton is the cinnamon vanilla-person.”

Thomas recoiled physically. “Whatever you think you’ve heard, I am _not_ sleeping with Hamilton-“

“Oh, that too,” James waved his hand dismissively. “I mean that was just inevitable, anyone with a functioning pair of eyes could see that was gonna happen sooner or later. When I pawned you off to him after that cocktail party I figured you two would bone out some tensions and that would be that.”

“Excuse me?” Thomas spat. “This is ridiculous.”

James had been observing his reactions thorough the whole interaction - deep down Thomas knew it was as good as over.

“Of course you’re in denial about it,” James said, quiet as if he was talking to himself. “You won’t admit it to yourself because-”

Thomas reached for the door handle and there was a loud click. He turned, stupefied, to look at James whose finger was on the lock switch. “Is this a fucking ambush?”

“Because you’re still holding onto your feelings for me.” Thomas opened his mouth with no plan whatsoever as to what to say and James silenced him with a single stern look. “Don’t lie to me, Thomas.”

This couldn’t be happening. Thomas swallowed down the lump forming in his throat and turned to face away from him.

“Are you angry?”

He couldn’t see James, but he could practically hear the soft expression in his voice. Looking away was useless with someone he knew so frustratingly well. “Of course not. My only problem is that you’re using your feelings for me as a shield against any other person you could potentially fall for. You choose to hold onto them, because the idea of opening up to someone new terrifies you.”

Thomas kept stubbornly looking at the overgrown oak arching over the pavement in front of his house. “And why is that?”

James’ voice only grew softer. “Because I hurt you. And now you refuse to open your heart to someone new because you’d rather cling to the safe and familiar hurt I’ve been causing you for years than risk experiencing a new one.”

Thomas scoffed. “Cool. Are we done playing armchair psychologist now?”

James sighed softly. “I mean, I could also say a thing or two about how your father made you feel unlovable, which has made you think no one but me could possibly ever love you.”

Thomas whipped around to look at his friend in horror. “Oh, no. No. Daddy issues are Hamilton’s private domain, like you have no idea,” he sputtered.

James’ cautious smile turned into a grimace. “I don’t, and I would like to keep it that way, thank you very much.”

Thomas stretched his legs out to his best ability - there was never enough leg space for him in this car because Dolley always set the seat close to the front. He reclined awkwardly in the tiny space and rubbed a palm over his mouth. At this point discussing Alexander was preferable over discussing the hopeless love he thought he had concealed so well for several years now.

“How long have you known?”

James tapped on the steering wheel contemplatively. “At the conference, Hamilton had his hair up with one of your hair elastics.”

Thomas sputtered again. “What kind of Sherlock Holmes-bullshit-“

“After that I just started to pay attention, and it became pretty obvious.” Thomas was too scared to ask what that meant. James clicked his tongue, as if annoyed with himself. “It only took me so long to notice because I’m having a-”

“Yes!” Thomas flinched at the harshness of his own voice, inhaled and repeated, softer, “yes. You’re having a kid, James. Why don’t you focus on that instead of whatever drama you’ve fabricated for me in your head?”

James frowned and leaned back into his seat. “I can’t believe I have to spell this out, but I suppose that’s my own fault for forgetting how dense you can be.” Thomas rolled his eyes and James raised a hand before he could protest. “Becoming a father doesn’t change my status as your best friend, Thomas. I’ll always worry about your wellbeing and concern myself with your happiness.”

Thomas had to swallow to keep down the lump in his throat again. James had seen it all along. The rotten ugliness flourishing in his chest. And yet there he was, smiling and gently touching the back of Thomas’ hand, feather light.

Thomas cleared his throat. “So, am I to understand that you want me… to get with Alex?”

James pursed his lips. “I still don’t like him, and I think you could do a lot better, but…” He seemed to search for the words carefully. “I just like the idea of someone finally seeing you. And I think that Hamilton, if anyone, could do that if only he pulled his head out of his ass.”

Thomas snorted. “Then hit me up when Hell freezes over.”

James laughed and started the car and it was like the air was clearing up. As awful as it all was objectively, Thomas hadn’t realized how much it had weighed on him not being able to properly talk about any of it. James was like the last oasis of genuine human connection left in his barren wasteland of a social life. It felt liberating that he didn’t have to lie anymore, at least.

“We have rules,” he blurted out when they pulled up to an intersection.

James raised an eyebrow. “Rules?”

“Yeah, sixteen of them.” This was definitely one of those moments Thomas had himself made awkward.

James was having a contemplative pause. “Are they, like, written on a laminated piece of paper or something?”

Thomas huffed. “Of course not, we’re grown men. We didn’t need to write them down, that would have been dumb.”

“Mmhm,” James hummed.

And because James was the best friend the universe could possibly have tossed his way, the issue wasn’t pressed for the rest of the day. They got pedicures and drank mimosas and talked about work and sports and acquaintances. It was good not only because the emotional battering was over, but also because it gave Thomas a much-needed respite from thinking about Hamilton.

None of that helped of course as soon as he was returned to the silence of this home with an elongated one-armed hug from James. He collapsed onto the sofa without bothering to turn on the lights, picked up a decorative pillow and started tossing it as high towards the ceiling as he could.

 _You like Hamilton._ Those words had been brewing this whole time, somewhere deep down. That must have been James’ intention all along, the sneaky bastard. He had implanted the idea knowing that Thomas’ awful brain would get going and do the rest of the work.

It just wasn’t… viable. Thomas had gotten used to the stranglehold James had on his heart - in some way he was afraid it might stop beating without it, left on its own. Loving James was safe. At the end of the day Thomas was assured it made him a better person, the kind of a person who drops everything and goes to buy soup when the other person is ill, the kind of a person who steps aside and puts on a smile when it becomes clear they would be happier with someone else. Sometimes his unwavering loyalty to James was the one thing that reassured Thomas that he was still human when the nature of his career made him ruthless - made him enjoy being ruthless.

 _Liking_ Alexander - Thomas had to force himself to finish the train of thought - liking Alexander, in the other hand, was dangerous. It made him hungry and relentless and perpetually unquenched. _Loving_ Alexander might just turn him into even more of a monster. If these feelings really existed and Thomas let himself feel them, could he take the higher road and let Alex be anyone else’s? Alexander didn’t make him feel _good_ the way James did, he just made him… feel.

Besides, it didn’t take a genius to know how it all would play out. Alex wouldn’t want Thomas and he would never be his, but Thomas would always be Alexander’s and he couldn’t do it again.

He messed up the trajectory of his toss and the pillow landed squarely on his face.

Alex was probably fucking Washington right now. The man struck Thomas as the type that didn’t fuck that often, but went at it for hours on end when he did. Could he really be everything Alexander had built him up to be in his head? Was it even possible? Or did it even matter? Maybe Alex was satisfied with whatever he could get from the _man of his dreams._

Alex had seemed satisfied enough with what Thomas gave him. An unwelcome image of Alex in his hotel room invaded Thomas’ mind – padding around in his shirt, occasionally stretching so that the hem hiked up and showed off the pretty purple bruises Thomas had left on him and kissed afterwards while Alex laid pliant and fucked out in his bed. Did Washington take proper care of him, afterwards? Did he know Alex got cold as soon as he cooled down and would need a blanket right after he’d been cleaned off?

Thomas contemplated pressing the pillow against his face and ending it all right then and there. Death by decorative IKEA pillow. Not a good way to go, but probably still better than death by heartbreak over an asshole who didn’t even know how to match his ties to his shirts.

Thomas had never even gotten that t-shirt back – Alex had been wearing it when he’d left for breakfast. It was the one he’d bought to sleep in when his flight from Paris had been cancelled. Thomas groaned and tossed the pillow into the corner of the room, rolling off the sofa ungracefully.

This needed to stop.

 

~~~

 

“Thomas?”

Alex peered at him like the soft light of the porch was too much for his sensitive eyes. There was a barely visible crease of a pillowcase stretching across his left cheek.

Thomas pulled his slightly clammy hands out of his pockets and stepped past Alex into the hallway.

“I want my shirt back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not to be cheesy but you guys make updating really addictive.
> 
> [[Obligatory tumblr plug](https://nightshiftblues.tumblr.com/)]


	13. Rule #4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: daddy-isms towards the end of the chapter.

Alex tripped over his feet and landed painfully on his hip trying to follow Thomas upstairs. The lower half of his body was still mostly asleep, and he couldn’t really blame it. “Dude, what the fuck?”

Thomas entered his bedroom and stood in front of the bed, hands on his hips. “You heard me.”

“Are you sleepwalking or something?” Alex scowled and rubbed at his aching side.

Thomas glanced around the room, impatient, like he wanted to rummage through the cabinets himself but didn’t want to touch Alexander’s stuff in case it was contaminated. “Just give me the damn shirt, Hamilton.”

_Hamilton, is it?_ Alex advanced a step, shaking off the sense of uneasiness flooding his chest.

“Why do you want it back?”

His eyes weren’t being met. Alex stepped closer and hooked a finger into the waistband of Thomas’ jeans. “You gonna take your shirt and get out of my life, Thomas? Is that it?” The challenge seeped into his voice, pulled it taunt.

Thomas glared down at Alex. “Chill. It’s not that deep.”

“I don’t believe that.” Alex stepped in until the bridge of his nose brushed against Thomas’ tightly clenched jawline. “It’s like, what? Four in the morning? A drama queen like you wouldn’t just-”

A pair of hands landed on Alexander’s hips and showed him backwards. Taken off guard, he fell back with a yelp as the backs of his knees hit the edge of the bed.

“Do you ever shut up?” Thomas growled, crawling on top of him.

It started out with the usual kind of aggressive lip-biting, back-scratching kisses. Thomas pinned Alex down and Alex pushed back just to make him grip him harder. To prove a point. _You don’t even_ want _to let me go,_ Alex told him with every movement of his body, and based on the frustrated line of his mouth, Thomas understood. They both moaned as their hips rubbed against each other.

Alex couldn’t really pinpoint the exact moment the atmosphere changed; the softness in Jefferson’s fingers on his hip snuck up on him. And then, suddenly, it was just… different.

Thomas released his grip on the headboard of the bed and used his arm to hike Alexander’s knee up instead, allowing for a better angle to slide against him. He rolled his hips deep and slow, like waves lapping against the shore before the tide. Alex gasped, and his mouth was immediately sealed by Thomas’, warm tongue sweeping lazily against his.

It hadn’t even occurred to Alex before this moment that they’d never faced each other during sex before. If this could even be classified as sex - it was somewhere in the grey area between foreplay and intercourse. Two bodies sliding against each other, more in search of closeness than actual friction.

Alex allowed it. Thomas had always fucked him exactly how he wanted to be fucked by Washington, so it was only fair that he got to live out this fantasy of having slow, passionate sex with James. Something must have happened between them, and this was Thomas sorting through the aftermath.

_Lucky guy,_ some small part of Alex had to think. It wasn’t his usual cup of tea, but the way Thomas looped an arm around his waist and moved his hips like he wanted to sink into him, while taking diligent care not to break or even slightly smudge Alex in the process… It made him feel treasured in a way he hadn’t in a while. The last time someone had cared for him that much, he’d been too messed up inside to bear it. John really had deserved better, Alex thought with some regret.

Thomas groaned and moved downwards to kiss his jawline and Alex landed back into the present. He squirmed under the attentive, open-mouthed pecks and nips of teeth on his pulse point, moaned softly, then bit his tongue. He shouldn’t break the immersion.

“Say my name, baby,” Thomas sighed into his skin. His voice was a husky whisper, like he was afraid someone might overhear and catch them in the act.

“Thomas…” Alex wrapped his arms around the warm torso hovering above him and sank his nails into the toned flesh. His voice was soft and slightly broken, matching the atmosphere. “Ah, Thomas, please!”

Before Alex could properly beg for Thomas to just pin him down and fuck him like usual, his mouth was covered by those soft, plump lips again. “Shh, I got you,” Thomas murmured against his lips and Alex had to close his eyes to shield himself from the unexpected proximity. He didn’t recognize this version of either of them, Thomas with his gentle words and himself with his choked up whimpers.

Thomas buried his face into the crook of Alexander’s neck and his thrusts became more purposeful, igniting a spark of heat at the points where their bodies connected. Alex clung to his shoulders for his dear life and tried not to cry. He’d forgotten what it was like to be touched in a way that was passionate without being vicious, that didn’t involve being held at an arm’s length. _It’s not real,_ he reminded himself even as he chanted Thomas’ name into his ear and arched his back into this strange source of tenderness he was suddenly allowed to tap into. This wasn’t actual _intimacy,_ but maybe this stolen moment well before sunrise, when neither of them was even supposed to be up or anywhere near each other, they could pretend it was.

Thomas kept running his palms over Alexander’s body as if to make sure all of him was really there with his face buried into Alexander’s hair until they both spilled. His whole body shivered and soon he collapsed on top of Alex.

Alex inhaled and slowly ran a hesitant hand though Thomas’ sweat-dampened curls.

“This can’t…” Thomas’ mumbled into his shoulder. “James…”

One kind of had to feel sorry for the guy. Alex had tried his best not to, had almost derived a petty kind of a joy out of the fact that there was something that even Thomas Jefferson couldn’t have just by throwing money or dropping a name at it. But as he massaged the nape of Thomas’ neck, there was an undeniable tug at the back of his throat. Alex couldn’t imagine what it was like to harbor all this tenderness and affection for years and have nowhere to pour it into.

Of course, the moment passed and the inevitable awkwardness ensued. Thomas rolled over and they both stripped off their sticky boxers in silence. Maybe if they just fell asleep immediately, they wouldn’t have to think about it or -even worse- talk about it.

Alex rolled to face the opposing wall, mumbling a sleepy “stay if you want to” into his pillow.

The arm that he expected to snake around his waist never appeared; from the sound of it, Thomas kept staring at the ceiling for a minute or so. Alex was so on edge he couldn’t will himself to fall asleep, so he kept staring at the rectangles of light that would occasionally slide across the wall as cars drove past.

“Alex?” The tone of Thomas’ voice reminded him of those hushed conversations you would have under the blankets during sleepovers as a kid. “Do you love Washington?”

Alex was so taken aback he couldn’t even feign sleep. “Love him?” He took a moment to chew on his bottom lip even though the question required no contemplation. “No, I’m not stupid,” he said eventually. “I don’t think you can really love someone you barely know. And I don’t know him, not really.”

Silence. Even the street was unusually quiet for a Tuesday night in New York, like it was also holding its breath.

“Then what’s the point?”

Alex thought of rolling over so he could have a look at Thomas’ face, but didn’t. “What do you mean?”

Thomas sighed, impatient. “What’s the point of being so obsessed with someone when you don’t even-”

“Not all of us are masochistic enough to delude ourselves into thinking someone’s gonna love us back,” Alex snapped. He felt a pang of regret as soon as he said it, but he was in too deep to back down now. “Look, I know what I want and where to get it.” He frowned at his bedroom wall. “Love has nothing to do with it.”

There was a group of drunk people walking down the street now. Alex tried to make sense of the slurred shouting, but it was too far away to be distinguishable.

The bed shifted, and Alex finally rolled onto his back. Thomas picked up his jeans from the floor.

“You’re not staying?” _What a dumb question._ Alex slapped himself internally. “I can find you that shirt if you really want it back. I think it’s in the wash though…” he stammered.

Thomas glanced at Alex over his shoulder without really looking at him. “It’s fine. I don’t need it.” It didn’t take long for him to be ready since they’d barely undressed to begin with. “I do want you to gather all my hair elastics and bring them to work, though,” he said at the door, just a dark silhouette outlined by the light of the hallway.

He was out before Alex could protest.

“Okay then,” he said to the empty, dark room.

 

~~~

 

“Stupid piece of junk,” Alex hissed at the scanner sitting mutely in front of him. The company had the sufficient funds to throw elaborate conferences, but not enough to upgrade their basic equipment apparently. The fact that Alex was practically head of finance made it that much more aggravating. If _some people_ only listened to what he had to say in meetings…

And just like that, his mind had found a way to leap from a malfunctioning scanner on the copy room of floor three all the way to Jefferson. Alex kicked at the stand the machine was sitting on half-heartedly.

“If a paperclip ends up in the machinery and we have to replace it, I didn’t see anything.”

Alex spun around and glared at Aaron, who leaned against the doorway with the kind of a smug smile that lead Alex to believe he’d fully intended on giving him a scare.

“Jesus, dude,” he gasped with a hand on his chest. “You know, for someone so ridiculously clumsy, you do sneak around a lot.”

The corner of Aaron’s mouth quirked up and he stepped into the room, the door swinging closed behind him.

“Or maybe you’re just a little bit occupied with something.” Burr smiled that charming plastic smile of his. “You seem a bit on edge lately, Alexander.”

Alex tilted his head and examined the pleasant expression on Burr’s face. There was a sharpness under it, like he _knew_ something. It was next to impossible to tell, with Burr. He could just be probing.

“Do I?” Alex said casually, giving up on trying to decrypt the mask on Burr’s face. “Must be the end of the quarter approaching.”

Aaron shook his head, arms crossed. “I don’t know about that. I’ll admit we don’t always see eye to eye, but even I have to appreciate that you thrive under pressure when it comes to work.”

Aaron Burr complimenting him, albeit in his own slightly condescending way? Alex felt like he’d stepped into the deep end of a pool without looking. “Thanks?”

“So it’s not work that’s distracting you,” Burr said, leaning into a shelf just a step away from Alex. “But I would wager it’s still something that has to do _with_ work.”

He was just probing, he didn’t know a goddamn thing.  Alex rolled his eyes impatiently and made to step past Burr. “I should get back to work.”

“Then again I would be distracted too, if I came to work with a vibrator inside of me.”

Oh, _fuck._

Alex stopped on his tracks, shoulder to shoulder with his co-worker.

“Don’t worry, I don’t think anyone else noticed the buzzing,” Aaron said, examining his nails. This was probably the best day of his miserable, repressed existence. “Except, of course, whoever it is that you’re messing around with at the office.”

It was a stupid impulse. Alex knew it was. Some other day he probably would even had had the good sense to deny the allegation and walk away; it wasn’t like Aaron had any proof, anyway. Some other day when the sensation of Jefferson’s soft, gentle lips wasn’t lingering on the crook of his neck and the sound of his own needy whimpers wasn’t still echoing in his ears.

From the sound of it, no one was nearby. Alex wetted his lips.

“What are you trying to achieve here?” he said with a lowered voice, eyes trained on Burr’s expressionless profile. “Are you finally gonna get the best of me by exposing my scandalous behavior?” He stepped in until he stood nose to nose with him. Burr’s eyes were dark and unreadable. Alexander’s voice turned into a hushed purr. “Or, maybe, I’m starting to think you’re just pissed that someone else got their hands on me.” Alex smiled. “And if that’s the case, there’s a supply closet on this floor that I could introduce you to.”

There it was. For a split second there, Alex could see that Burr wanted it. Alex had known the pull had been there this whole time, it just never went anywhere because they wanted the same things more than they wanted each other. Still, the muscles of Aaron’s jaw were pulled taunt and his eyes slid down to Alexander’s lips, and then to the door.

It wasn’t enough. It could never _be_ enough. Not with them, not in this lifetime at least.

Aaron closed his eyes and inhaled deep. When he opened them, they were distant enough to be on the other side of the room again. “I didn’t mean to make you feel threatened,” he said with his most appropriate ‘phone call with a client’-voice. “As long as you’re not sleeping with a senior staff member whom you could have an… undue influence upon, it’s none of my business anyway.”

Alex was smart enough to pick up on the warning he was being issued.

Burr side-stepped towards the door. “Washington wanted to see you in his office.”

The scanner behind Alex finally stuttered to life with a high-pitched screech. He slumped weakly against it.

“Thanks.”

 

~~~

 

“Everything alright there, son?”

“Don’t call me son,” Alex said unthinkingly, still somewhere deep in his thoughts.

When there was no reply, he tore his eyes off the streetlights sliding by and turned to look at Washington’s frowning silhouette. “Sorry, sir.”

Washington’s eyes stayed on the road. “What are you apologizing for, Alexander?”

Alex flushed. This was their sixth time hooking up and it was starting to seem like he would never get used to being alone with this man, let alone having that focus on him.

He released the lip he’d been holding between his teeth and turned to face the window again. “Nothing.”

The trainwreck of a conversation with Burr was still rattling about in his brain. Perhaps foolishly, it hadn’t occurred to Alex until now what it was that Washington was risking for him. If this thing got out in the open, Alex being lower in the ranks would guarantee that his ass would be (more or less) covered. Ultimately company policy dictated that it was the responsibility of the higher ups to not abuse their power.

It hadn’t occurred to Alex before Aaron was staring him down in the copy room that what he was doing may have been selfish. That it was endangering the man he cared for and looked up to more than anyone. The fact that he knew it wouldn’t be enough to keep him away from Washington didn’t exactly make him feel any better about himself, either.

They pulled up to the usual hotel. Washington liked it because of the discretion and class and Alex liked it because of the nice toiletries; he wouldn’t need to buy shampoo for a long while. He hadn’t asked why his boss was so familiar with the place and its non-disclosure policy, nor was he planning to.

The usual routine ensued. Washington went to the front desk and Alex waited by the elevators, checking his email to distract himself from the expensive carpeting and the staff discreetly trying to decide whether he was a prostitute or a mistress.

They usually maintained a cordial-yet-distant demeanor between them until the door of their suite was shut and locked, but this time around Washington’s palm landed on Alexander’s lower back, underneath his suit jacket, as soon as the doors of the elevator slid closed.

“Thank you for not making a fuss about me getting the bill,” he murmured by Alexander’s ear. Alex shuddered. It was like warmth radiated from Washington’s broad palm resting on the base of his spine. His touch always made Alex tense up and turn into jelly simultaneously, like his body couldn’t make its mind on whether to run or roll over.

He leaned back into Washington, only ever slightly. “I’ll allow it, just for you.”

Alex had discovered that thinking about it as a fetish-thing helped. He’d chosen to see it as a part of the play; Washington taking good care of his little office slut and whatnot. Spoiling him when he was being good. Alex would have been lying if he said he wasn’t kind of into it.

It was just so difficult to tell, with Washington. Half of the time Alex wasn’t even sure what it was that he was getting out of this, or if it was at all comparable to what Alex was getting. It couldn’t be orgasms – Alex was the one who usually came several times (Washington clearly wasn’t satisfied until he did), while Washington had come maybe once or twice during their whole arrangement, and seemed sort of disgruntled about it afterwards _(“made me lose my cool, sweet thing”)._ Alex would get on his knees and bat his eyelashes and beg for a chance to suck him off, and Washington would just smile amusedly, pet his head and tell him to get dressed. It was maddening.

So Alexander’s best guess was that Washington had sex just for the sport of it, and this sugardaddy-roleplay was somehow part of it. And Alex could play ball, if it meant having those hands pinning him down and that deep voice saying things he’d never even dared to daydream of right into his ear. It just made his insecurity complex play up at times, like everything about Washington tended to do.

They made it to the suite without any further groping. Alex leaned on the closing door until the lock clicked and watched Washington’s relaxed gait as he walked to the bed, undoing the chuffs of his sleeves.

“Why don’t you take those clothes off?” Washington said to Alex over his shoulder, shaking him out of the reverent haze he tended to fall into, watching that man undress.

“Yes sir,” he breathed and started to undo the knot of his tie. Washington sat on the edge of the bed and appraised Alex silently as he made his way across the room, taking his time with shedding each article of clothing.

“I do appreciate that you let me do these things for you,” Washington said, leaning back on his palms and his eyes trailing the strip of skin Alex was exposing with every shirt button he undid. “It’s the least I can do for having the privilege of spending time with you.”

Alex hummed, let his shirt drop to the floor and started to undo his belt. “The pleasure’s all mine, sir.”

Washington’s eyes were kind and yet alert in that way that made Alex fear for the privacy of his innermost thoughts. “Good boy.”

Alex took a shuddering breath, stepped out of his pants and boxers perhaps more hastily than seductively, and knelt at Washington’s feet. Washington reached out and brushed his knuckles slowly over the line of his cheekbone, tucked a strand of hair behind his ear and ran his fingertips down his jawline. Like he was running a hand over the cover of a book he was considering purchasing. Alex wanted to press into the touch, but he didn’t have permission so he stayed put.

“So sweet,” Washington said quietly as his fingers brushed over Alexander’s Adam’s apple. “And just for me.” The feather-light touch turned into a loose grip on Alexander’s throat. Not enough to cut off air supply, but enough to make Alex hyperaware of the strength in those hands. It electrified his senses, cranked them up to their highest setting. “Isn’t that right, pet?”

And suddenly, underneath the white hot wave of arousal, there was a pang of something raw and dreadful. Suddenly Alex could see Thomas’ eyes as he pleaded him to say his name like that would save him from all the pains of the world, and behind that mirage he could see a real question posed in Washington’s eyes. Like he actually gave a damn about who else Alex screwed of his spare time.

He needed to do something. He needed to strip off this layer or vulnerability and take them back into the realm of play, where sex was just sex and none of it was _real._

Suddenly he was in that copy room with Burr again, plunging headfirst into the unknow with no guarantee of the outcome. He had faceplanted spectacularly last time around, but he was Alexander Hamilton, and Washington wasn’t Burr. This time around, it just might be enough.

Alex let his head fall back, exposing more of his neck to Washington. “Just for you,” he sighed and used up all the courage he could muster to make coy eye contact. “Just for you, daddy.”

He barely dared to breathe. Washington’s eyes were unreadable and almost pitch black as he considered Alexander, running his thumb over the tendon of his neck. Like he was trying to determine whether a noose would break it. All of Alexander’s senses were running on their highest setting and he could hear his own quickened breathing louder than it probably really was.

Washington’s grip on his neck tightened for a second. “Liar.”

Next thing he knew, Alex found himself lying face down, buried into the soft pillow, Washington’s teeth rasping on his earlobe. “Now, how should daddy make you cry for it tonight?”

Alex could have sobbed of relief. He moaned and rutted his hips against the mattress, knowing full well a strong hand would come to pin them in place.

“None of that, now, we have the whole night ahead of us. Be a sweet boy and stay still for me.”

Alex gasped and stilled. “Yes, daddy.”

A hand came to pull on Alexander’s hair, yanking his head back, and all thoughts fled his mind. All was well again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alex is Spiralling™. The big confrontation everyone’s looking forward to is happening soon, I promise.
> 
> [[Obligatory tumblr plug](https://nightshiftblues.tumblr.com/)]


	14. Rule #1

Washington was too good not to be temporary. Alex screwed him like he was running out of time, because somewhere between his dad sneaking out of the house before he and his brother woke up and realizing he couldn’t go to his dream college no matter what his GPA was, he’d learned. When the other shoe would drop - and it always did - he would at least be able to say he’d made the most of it.

With Thomas, it may very well have dropped already - Alex couldn’t quite tell. Ever since their strange night of vanilla roleplay, Thomas had been too busy to hang. He barely had the time to discuss work even when they ran into each other between meetings and lunch breaks. Which, whatever. It wasn’t as though Alex couldn’t use the extra time; ever since his sex life took over his professional life, he’d fallen criminally behind in his self-assigned stack of overtime work.

It was the strange tension hovering in the air that made him uneasy. With the poker faces they had to keep up around the office, Alex couldn’t quite tell whether Thomas and he were circling each other like prowling cats, or simply avoiding collision like two planets on their respective orbits. It made him uneasy and slightly volatile.

“Are you coming to the bar tonight?” John said at the doorway of his office, interrupting Alexander’s daily moment of rueful wall-staring.

He took off his reading glasses and plopped them onto the table with a sigh. “What bar?”

John frowned. “The one I told you about yesterday at lunch as you stared at the soda machine vacantly.”

Alex shrugged. “Sorry. Work. You have a good time, though.”

John stretched out his neck, making it crack audibly. “Jefferson and Burr are gonna be there, I think. Now that they’re on the same team with Madison or whatever,” he persisted, tilting his head.

Alexander’s eyes narrowed. “And what makes you think that would make me more likely to want to come?” he asked, dry. He planted a foot onto the floor and spun on his chair.

John was starting to look impatient. “Well, shit, I don’t know,” he shrugged and stepped further into the office. At six thirty there was nearly no one left loitering around the office, but John still lowered his voice. “Jefferson used the word ‘there’ when he meant ‘their’ on his presentation today and you didn’t say a damn thing, so I figured something’s gotta be up.” John’s hand clamped down on the back of Alexander’s chair and he nearly fell off due to the sudden abruption of his momentum. John’s eyes were sharp and demanding, his face only inches away from Alexander’s. “What’s going on, Alex?”

First Burr, and now this. Why was Alexander’s personal business suddenly the top concern of every nosy idiot in the office?

Alex felt his face heat up. “We haven’t been together for over three years now, so I’m gonna have to ask you to kindly get off my dick,” he snapped.

John staggered a step back before Alex even got up from his chair and he was out of the office before he could get a good look at John’s face and feel the full weight of his mistake. This was one of those times when Alex knew he needed to apologize before he finished throwing his tantrum, but at a later date when his blood was done boiling and he would actually be able to do it well.

Washington, at least, could always be trusted to be in his office, doing his job. He was slow to tear his eyes off his monitor as Alex rapped his knuckles against on the wall next to his office door.

“I’ll be heading out now, sir.”

Washington’s nod was absent-minded, but the look in his eyes stopped Alex from slipping out of the room as soon as he got the okay.

“Why don’t you wait at my car?”

Less than a month ago there would have been a ‘son’ tacked to the end of that statement – Alex chose to appraise it as a statement, rather than a question. How far they’d come. He glanced down the hallway nervously, but the secretary was nowhere to be seen.

“Yes, sir,” he said.

Washington’s eyes were back on his monitor by the time Alex replied. “Good boy.”

Maybe Washington could tell Alex needed something to soothe his agitation. As much as there was an impenetrable wall of power and age and deliberate emotional distance separating them, the man seemed extremely attuned to Alexander’s moods and whims. And perhaps it worked both ways; the slight shadows under his boss’s eyes told Alex that this wasn’t likely to be one of those nights Washington’s patience would run deeper than he could hope to reach. Excitement already gathered at his lower belly as he backed out of the office and made his way to the parking garage.

Alex located Washington’s car with ease and leaned on a concrete post as he waited. He wasn’t too good at identifying cars – had never owned one because the city had decent public transport anyway and he wasn’t planning on moving to the suburbs (or worse, the countryside) anytime soon. Rattling off the makes and models of every passing car had been his brother’s thing, before the foster system had separated them anyway. But Washington’s car was so… _him_ that Alex probably could have spotted it even before he’d become a semi-regular passenger. Black and shiny and sturdily built, not in a compensatory manner but more like Washington didn’t care for being trampled in traffic. Very expensive, but in way that seemed more like an afterthought. Washington was too used to his wealth to flaunt it.

Kind of like Thomas, except when Thomas exhibited the characteristic it was obnoxious and annoying. Maybe it was because Washington had taste while Thomas didn’t, Alex mused. The side of his mouth quirked up as he thought of Thomas’ collection of awful, flashy ties, all with their matching pocket squares of course. He insisted they were some super exclusive Italian designer as if that would somehow make them less offensive to the eye. Maybe he would be wearing one at the bar.

Alex bit his smile back when he picked up on approaching footsteps. Washington’s palm landed on his lower back as he walked past him to the car. “Sorry about the wait.”

“No problem,” Alex hummed as he dropped to the passenger’s seat. “Still working through Schuyler’s proposal?”

Washington nodded and steered out of the garage, one confident hand on the wheel. “Times of transition always need to be handled with care.”

“Good thing I don’t,” Alex grinned. It was a cheap line, even for him, but Washington looked like he could use the distraction.

Sure enough, Washington’s lips quirked into a wry smile. “You definitely require handling of some sort, that’s for sure.” His palm landed on Alexander’s thigh at the next intersection.

Alex slid forward in his seat so that the palm laid closer to his crotch. “I’ll be good tonight, I promise.” Washington’s fingers pressed into the flesh of his thigh slightly and Alex smirked.

“We’ll see about that.”

As distracted as he was, Alex soon realized they weren’t headed the usual way.

“A different hotel tonight?” he enquired, drawing a pattern on the nonexistent dust on the windowsill with his fingertip.

From the periphery of his vision, he could see Washington shrug. “I thought we could go to my place this time around.” His thumb stroked Alexander’s thigh, as if he needed convincing. Or placating. “Is that alright?”

Excitement prickled at Alexander’s skin, but he made an effort to nod as nonchalantly as he could. “Sure.” So this was what it took to grow close enough to Washington to get to see his living quarters, he thought with some self-aware amusement. He was pretty sure none of his colleagues knew where the man lived. But then again, he was pretty sure none of his colleagues knew their boss was circumcised, either. Or hoped, rather.

Fifteen minutes of suspense later Alex was treated to the sight of a surprisingly rustic-looking townhouse. Just like Washington’s car, it seemed like it was mainly built for function, though obviously it was still nicer than anything Alex had ever possessed a key to. Besides, the central location raised the property’s value to a level he could only speculate on.

“I decided to get this a few years ago when making the commute from Mount Vernon became too much of a trouble,” Washington chattered as he dropped his keys into a bowl by the door.

 _Ah._ Of course there was also a family estate, and this was just an extra bachelor pad for convenience’s sake. Alex felt like he usually felt in those fancy stores where barely none of the items were on display and everything was uncomfortably sterile. Out of place and afraid he was going to contaminate something with his mere presence.

Washington carried down the hall without a care. “Especially since Martha wasn’t there to look after he estate anymore. She was always more invested in it than I was, anyway.”

Martha, as in the woman with the dazzling smile posing in more than a few of the pictures hung on the hallway, as in the only reason Washington had ever missed more than a week from work, as in the one topic of conversation Alex should definitely handle with a pair of silky gloves and safety goggles on, or preferably not at all. He followed Washington wherever it was that they were headed and hummed lamely. “It’s a nice place.”

“Thank you.”

They entered a kitchen and Alex concluded that Washington must have hired help; there was no conceivable way he had the time to keep the place this spotless by himself, like it was a display in a furniture store. A very, very posh furniture store with marble countertops and ice makers and cookers Alex wouldn’t know how to operate any more than an alien spaceship.

He didn’t belong here. He wasn’t Martha “arranges fundraisers with Michelle Obama” Washington, hell, he wasn’t even a high-end escort. Suddenly Alex felt exactly like he’d felt stepping into that beautiful office in his two sizes too large suit as an unpaid intern. He shifted on his feet, only halfway into the room.

“Would you care for a drink?” Washington offered.

Thinking on his feet, Alex slid to the closest counter and propped himself onto it. Covering up his discomfort with overt familiarity, that he knew how to do. Though Washington would probably see right through it. If he wanted to.

Alex crossed his legs and leaned back on his palms. “Not thirsty,” he hummed with a soft and stretchy voice.

Washington turned away from the fridge and appraised Alex with his eyebrows raised. “No?”

Alex clicked his tongue. “Nope.”

Washington’s eyes skimmed over his frame, as if to confirm Alex really was perched on one the countertops of his gazillion dollar kitchen. “It’s bad manners to sit on tables, young man,” he said, his voice dropping half an octave.

“Woops,” Alex smiled.

“I thought you were going to be good tonight,” Washington said, advancing two steps and stopping in front of Alex, his hands casually resting on his hips.

“Sorry, daddy.” The word rolled uneasily off Alexander’s tongue, like it was coated in tar or honey. He was still bashful about it, not to mention mindful of not overusing it so it wouldn’t lose its effectiveness. Nothing else that he knew of seemed to quite bring out the same heated forcefulness in Washington.

Surely enough, his head was yanked back from his hair before Alex could really process the movement. He had to bite his lip as to not crack a smile.

“You know what bad boys don’t get?” Washington’s breath was hot on his jugular, probably close enough to feel Alexander’s quickening pulse. Alex shook his head and gasped at the sting shooting across his scalp. “They don’t get fucked in nice, soft beds befitting for pillow princesses such as yourself.”

His hand came down to cup Alex’s crotch and he bucked against the slight pressure with a quiet groan.

“Or maybe that’s your goal here,” Washington murmured into his ear. “Maybe you’re just a slut that wants to get fucked on the first available surface.”

“God, yes,” Alex moaned and squirmed uselessly, unable to press against the hand barely rubbing against his hard on.

Washington yanked on his hair sharply. “Yes, what?”

“Yes, daddy,” Alex gasped and Washington kissed him once, like a brandmark, and pulled him off the counter. Flipping him before he could gain proper footing and pressing between his shoulder blades until Alex was laid out on the table.

“Don’t move.”

Alex pressed his forehead into the cool marble surface of the countertop to keep his wits about him while Washington did whatever the hell he was doing instead of just screwing him already. Probably getting a condom and closing the curtains, which Alex probably should have cared about, but frankly he was too turned on to think clearly. He reached down and undid his belt and zipper, partly to prevent himself from fixating on the impeccably expensive interior design of the room again.

He froze when Washington returned. A hand trailed down his spine and then back up under his shirt and Alex pressed his palms into the surface under him to keep from fidgeting. There was a fine line to be toed if he wanted to get what he wanted from Washington, and knowing when to be patient was part of it.

This was the part where Washington would usually call him beautiful, or pretty, or sweet, but not tonight it seemed. Still, Alex felt those appraising eyes on the thin bones of his neck, stripping him down even more efficiently than those competent hands ever did. “I told you to stay still.”

Alex did, and when all was said and done Washington delivered when he needed to.

Objectively Alex knew that Washington was quicker than usual to get through prep work, but he still gasped loudly with relief when he finally felt the press of his cock at his rim. The unforgiving edge of the table combined with the feeling of being filled so completely and so mercilessly had his gasping and scrambling at nothing until Washington grabbed his wrists and effortlessly pinned them against his lower back with just one hand.

“Perfect little slut,” Washington murmured and increased his pace, ramming into Alex slightly harsher with every thrust. Alex would have responded in kind if his brain wasn’t overwhelmed with the crackling pleasure overriding his senses and pushing away the anxieties and tensions and mistakes of the last weeks and months. It was too good, he was going to burst with it.

So Alex did what he always did when the pleasure fried his nerve-ends and swelled into this all-consuming heat that felt too big to fit inside his body - he curled his toes against the floor tiles and arched his back and cried, he cried out-

_“Thomas!”_

It took a moment for his brain to catch up with the sense of _ohshitohfuckbadwrongbad_ swelling in his chest, but by the time he could find enough sense to panic, Washington was fucking him again. That might have been the worst part, that Washington didn’t even get mad and toss him aside like a soiled rag. Though there were many potential worst parts to the situation to choose from.

Like the fact that Alex still came, crying out with Washington’s hand wrapped around his cock and his legs shaking uselessly against the side of the counter. Washington stoked his back as he came down from it and pulled out gingerly once Alex slumped against the sticky countertop.

“Sorry about… making a mess,” he mumbled into the grey marble.

“Don’t worry about it.” Washington’s voice was just a little bit too pleasant to be natural. “Why don’t you go wash up while I call you a cab?”

Ah. There was the other shoe, dropping on Alexander’s windpipe and grinding his hopes that they could just pretend what had happened never happened into dust under its sole.

“Sir,” Alex opened and closed his mouth a few times, eyes fixated on a half-empty fruit bowl. “I’m so sorry, I swear it won’t happen again if you just let me-“

Washington sighed and chuckled in a tired sort of way and leaned against the sink as he did his fly. “No Alex, I don’t think so.” He smiled in a slightly resigned sort of way, still no resentment or offence to be seen in his eyes and God, Alex was the worst. “I wish I could be a better person but,” he shrugged, “I’m afraid I just can’t settle for being the second-best option for someone. I’m too prideful to accept being settled on.”

“Oh my God.” Alex slumped against the counter behind him and buried his face into his palm. A hollow, humorless laugh pushed its way out of his lungs. “You have no idea how fucking ironic this is.”

“It’s my fault,” Washington said, absent-minded. “When I realized there was something going on between you and Thomas, I assumed it was casual. I was so engrossed with the idea of having you for myself, it never even crossed my mind he had grabbed you so profoundly.”

The gods must have been after Alex personally, that was the only explanation. He must have done something terrible in a past life and he was paying for it now.

“Maybe if things were different, and I would have gotten to you sooner…” Washington blinked and shook his head as it to banish the train of thought. “Well, it doesn’t matter. No use dwelling on could-have-been’s.”

Alexander’s stomach lurched at the implications of that statement. What he was losing right now, what he could have had even without realizing it. He took a staggering step forwards, grabbing Washington’s sleeve by the elbow like a lost child. He felt disgusting to his core, shabby and sticky and unworthy to beg for what he wanted to beg for, all the way to his core. The words stuck on his throat and he was left staring at Washington’s steely face helplessly.

Washington’s palm came up and pressed against his cheek briefly, even the warmth of it not lingering. “Thank you for this, Alexander,” he said with a smile that was earnest in all its bittersweet glory. “And really, good luck with Thomas.”

He stepped out of the kitchen, presumably to call that cab, and Alexander’s hand fell to his side.

“The bathroom is the second door to the left,” Washington called over his shoulder.

Alex pulled in a shaky breath and nodded to the fridge.

“Thank you, sir.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The whole ‘each chapter is a rule’-gimmick was totally worth it just for this chapter. This is so satisfying to me.
> 
> [[Obligatory tumblr plug](https://nightshiftblues.tumblr.com/)]


	15. Rule #5

“Maybe it’s time to slow down with the drinks,” James told Thomas as the night was barely beginning, dark concerned eyes trained on his near-empty martini glass.

“What for?” Thomas’ voice game out gruff.

No, really. What was the point? James already knew every shameful secret Thomas could possibly want to hide, so he no longer had to watch his drinks around the guy. And Hamilton wasn’t here.

It ate at him - the relief of not seeing that familiar messy ponytail and having to deal with how his heart rate would decide to respond to it, and the disappointed twinge of yearning like a festering cavity underneath.

Before James could protest, Thomas snatched up his drink and drowned that too.

“If not for me, then for Burr,” James hissed into his ear, a warning hand clamping down on the back of his neck.

Thomas frowned. “What?”

Sure enough, three martinis were delicately set onto the table and the man in question slid into the seat on the opposite side of the table, smiling as if he’d been invited. “Gentlemen.”

Thomas suppressed a groan and ignored Burr, grabbing one of the martinis before James got a chance at snatching it up. He’d never particularly cared for Burr, and he cared for the guy even less ever since he’d seized a promotion in the wake of Schuyler retiring and gotten transferred to their department. It wasn’t the blatant opportunism that bugged him (throwing stones in glass houses and all that), but the natural ease that the man changed allies and stances with. It was acceptable and even desirable in standard employees, but not in management. Not when the decisions made could make or break the company. As objectively wrong as Alexander could be most of the time, at least he was set on doing what he genuinely believed would bring them success. Burr cared, sure, but not as much as he cared about staying afloat himself as far as Thomas could tell.

“I’ll go grab us some water,” James said pointedly, shooting Thomas one of his looks as he scooted out of the booth. The dimly lit lounge was filling up with expensive suits and tasteful perfume and the sleekly designed bar was already busy with their co-workers and other patrons. James would be away for a while.

“I’m not that drunk, James,” Thomas called after the man, to no avail.

Burr picked the olive out of his glass and twirled the toothpick between his fingers, considering. “It’s been awhile since we’ve gone out together like this, as both co-workers and friends,” he said.

Thomas made a nondescript sound and held the liqueur on his tongue. He didn’t even like martinis.

Aaron smiled absentmindedly, apparently content with carrying the conversation. “It’s nice.”

Laurens passed by their table and Burr moved like a snake, snatching up his sleeve. “Hey!”

Small joys of life: Laurens looked like he was having a shit evening too. “Damn Burr, what?”

“Is Alexander coming?”

The mild annoyance on Laurens’ face warped into a grimace. “No.”

Burr tilted his head, brows knitting together but mouth still smiling. “No? Do you know what he’s-”

Laurens yanked his sleeve out of Burr’s grasp and spat: “Hell if I know.” Then his piercing stare turned to Thomas, nearly burned a hole between his eyes. “It’s none of my goddamn business, anyway.” He stormed off before Burr could question him any further.

Thomas’ alcohol-soaked insides twisted uncomfortably, and he took another sip from his drink to cover up his expression. Alex wasn’t coming. He was busy for the night.

_With Washington,_ Thomas’ brain spelled out for him.

He’d guessed that that was the case already, but the confirmation didn’t feel great regardless. Jesus, somewhere along the way Thomas had lost his grip and all hope of regaining it, too.

But Burr’s inquisitive eyes were on him now. Thomas cocked an eyebrow and leaned to his elbow in a nonchalant manner. “What’s his damage?”

Burr shrugged, swirling the olive in his drink like he was mixing a potion. “Seems to me he’s always cared for Alexander more than is perhaps in his best interest.”

Thomas snorted. “Okay, Dr. Phil.” Curiosity poked at him, and he really should have dropped the subject and moved on to something safer at that point, but. Maybe James had had a point about the drinks. “Why do _you_ care, though?” he asked slowly, meeting Burr’s gaze across the table. “What does it matter whether Alex comes or not?”

Burr’s tongue darted out of his mouth to wet his lips. He leaned into his palm and traced some invisible pattern on the slightly damp surface of the table. Thomas found himself leaning in as well.

“Alexander and I have been growing closer, lately,” he said eventually.

Burr and Alexander, close beyond the weird resentful flirting thing they had going on? Thomas’ eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Really now?”

Burr hummed, his lips curling into a smile just a tad more crooked than his usual expression. “He comes to me at work, nowadays, for some private chats.” The room was getting hotter. Thomas should have looked away at that point, disengaged, shielded himself in some way. Instead he leaned in even more, unmindful of what he was giving away as he stared into those dark, mildly amused eyes. “There’s a really handy cleaning supply closet for that sort of thing on third floor.”

No.

There was no way.

The noise level of the bar was getting unbearable and Thomas’ head felt fuzzy and impossibly heavy at the same time.

“Are you alright?” Burr reached for Thomas over the table and laid a palm on his elbow. Thomas jerked away from the touch and Burr’s brows furrowed with concern that almost passed for genuine. “Is it something I said?”

“Alex!”

Both of their heads snapped towards the entrance and, lo and behold, the talk of the party came striding in still in his work clothes, waving back at Mulligan.

Thomas was out of his seat before Burr had a chance to see the way blood rushed to his face. He nearly bumped into James, who was finally returning from his quest for water Thomas never asked for. He took one look at Thomas’ expression and side-stepped into his path.

“You should wait until you’re sober, for whatever this is,” he murmured with his head ducked, brows furrowed with real concern.

Fortunately he was holding two glasses of water, filled to the brim, so he was in no position to stop Thomas from dodging him and striding towards Alexander, who was still lingering by the door. Maybe he didn’t know where to go since he and Laurens were fighting. All the energy and frustration Thomas had been harboring these past few weeks buzzed under his skin and he nearly vibrated with the need to unleash it upon the culprit. The betrayal turned his mouth sour and twisted his lips into a tense grimace. It was no wonder Alexander took one look at his face and fell back a step.

Thomas’ fingers snatched up his arm before he had a chance to escape. “Let’s go for a walk.”

Alexander struggled to no avail as Thomas started to drag him towards the doors. “Listen, I’ve had a shit evening. I need to get some shots into me before I have to deal with you,” he whined.

Thomas inhaled deep and looked at Alex over his shoulder. “Please,” he said, quiet, releasing his bruising grip from his arm. Alex appraised Thomas’ face for a moment and sighed, finally falling into step with him.

A crisp breeze hit Thomas’ face and tugged at his curls as they stepped outside. He drew in a greedy lungful - his head was still clouded with jealousy and confusion and a myriad of other ugly emotions, but at least he wasn’t choking on the hot, stuffy air of the lounge anymore. He’d been struggling to breathe from the moment Burr said those words, smiling like he could practically see Alex on his knees in the dim light of the supply closet. Reminiscent.

They rounded a corner and entered a narrow, empty valley away from the people smoking on the street. A wry smile appeared on Alexander’s face as he took in the grimy tiles and abandoned, rusted bicycle parts littering the alley. “Now this is a romantic setting,” he hummed, looking at Thomas sideways, head tilted. “Though I guess you’re too drunk to pin me against the wall here. That would be against the rules.”

Indignation rekindled in Thomas’ chest; he’d almost forgotten about it for a second there, distracted by the soft shadows falling on Alexander’s face in the dim electric lights illuminating the alleyway.

“Yeah, because following the rules has worked out so great for us thus far,” he said. “Especially the one about not getting work involved.”

Alexander’s brows furrowed. “What are you trying to say?”

Thomas advanced a step and thought better of it. His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides and the words came tumbling out of his mouth, curt and ineloquent. “Do you consider fucking your way through every person at the office ‘not getting work involved’?”

A spark was ignited behind Alexander’s dark eyes. “Excuse me?”

“I know about Burr,” Thomas spat.

Alexander’s face went from offended back to confusion. “What?”

“Don’t lie to me.” Thomas had to put effort into not shouting at this point. Why was he so _angry?_ “He told me about your little ‘chats’. Even the same closet on the third floor, really Alex?”

Alexander’s mouth opened and closed a few times. “That shady motherfucker,” he gasped eventually.

Thomas couldn’t do this. Their careers were on the line and he needed to leave before they would both be screaming.

“Just forget it,” he snapped and turned on his heels, intent on drowning his sorrows at the bar and figuring out a way to scrub Alexander Hamilton out of his brain the next morning.

Alex caught up to him in three clumsy, hurried strides. This time it was him gripping Thomas’ arm with all his strength. “Now hold on a minute!”

He pulled until Thomas begrudgingly turned around and met his fiery gaze.

“Firstly,” he hissed, “I _never_ fucked Burr, so there.” Anger bled into the honest earnesty in his expression. “Second of all, so what if I did? Why would it matter to you when you know I’ve been fucking Washington for weeks now and never had a problem with that?”

Thomas swallowed and his eyes darted away from the burning accusations in Alexander’s eyes.

Hamilton was right. It shouldn’t have mattered, and he was being hypocritical.

But Thomas had accepted that Alex would bring Washington into their bed from the beginning. He hadn’t liked it, but he’d known. Burr was never part of the equation, nor was he worthy of even an iota of Alexander’s attention. Losing to Washington was hardly a shame, nearly no one could hope to compare to the man. But this was _different._ This _felt_ different.

In a rushed moment of hurt and bad judgement, Thomas clasped his hands over Alexander’s shoulders and pushed until his back hit the grimy wall of the alley. It was an ungraceful move and they both nearly tripped over their feet, breathing hard as if they’d been fighting in a more physical sense of the word.

“You know what? I do have a problem with that,” Thomas spat. Alex had flinched as his back hit the wall, but now he stared up at Thomas defiantly, unmoving save for his heaving chest. Thomas’ palms trembled against the delicate bones of his shoulders. “You’re just gonna toss me aside the second you find someone better, and I’m just supposed to be cool with that?”

“That was literally the deal,” Hamilton snarled and uselessly pushed back against Thomas’ hold. “You know what? This is bullshit,” he hissed with that same venomous tone, giving up and easing against the wall. “It’s not exactly like you’ve been asking for anything exclusive with me, or even indicated that you wanted more than what we had. For God’s sake Jefferson, we despise each other! What right do you have to turn around and ask more from me now?”

Thomas’ teeth were clamping down on the inside of his cheek, threatening to draw blood. Alex had a point, he did. Thomas wasn’t too far gone even in his jealous rage to see that, and yet-

It just wasn’t _fair._ It wasn’t fair that Alex was hurling accusations at him, telling Thomas that _he_ was the one who should have admitted that he wanted more when Alex was always the first to run as soon as the fun was over. How was Thomas supposed to lay his soul bare to someone who was so likely to shoot him down when Alex wouldn’t even stay in bed with him past dawn, or let him draw him a bath? How was Thomas supposed to give him a mile when Alex wouldn’t even give him an inch?

Except.

Except that one night when Alex had clung to his shoulders like a lifeline and allowed Thomas to touch him in a way he’d never touched anyone before, soft and pliant and willing under his hands like he was ready to take whatever Thomas threw at him regardless of whether it was his ferocity or his affection. That moment right underneath dawn had been impossibly delicate and special and Thomas had _known,_ in his heart of hearts that it was something unlike anything Alex had ever experienced, too. The memory of that night still raised goosebumps on the skin of Thomas’ arms when he least wanted it to.

His lips moved on their own accord. The voice that came out was so revoltingly vulnerable he barely recognized is a his own.

“I made love to you.”

Alex looked like the air had been punched out of his guts. Thomas followed with the terrified vigilance that came with a soul-baring confession how Alexander’s expression went from disbelief to fluster to panic to steely resolve.

“That’s your own goddamn fault,” he said eventually, his voice choked and clipped.

Thomas flinched away as if Alexander’s shoulders had turned into scalding iron and staggered back two steps.

Alex rubbed at the spot where his fingers had curled over bone, eyes falling to the concrete between them. His other hand closed into a fist at his side. “Anyway, you don’t have to get all pissy about Burr. I don’t know what he said to you, but he’s not interested,” he said, his voice low. When Alex looked at Thomas again he looked angry in that way you’re angry on the verge of tears, cheeks red and jaw clenched. “And thanks to you, I can’t have Washington anymore, either. So thanks for that,” he nearly whispered.

“I… what?” Thomas blinked, taken aback.

The blush on Alexander’s face deepened and the look in his eyes resembled that of a wild animal in a cage. He was _scared,_ Thomas realized with a start. He was lashing out due to a fear of… something, possibly the same thing that had driven Thomas to down more martinis than he probably should have and made him drag Hamilton out here. The realization made him reach out to Alex, his hand hesitant but willing to bridge the gap between them.

Alexander’s shoulders shot up with tension and before Thomas knew it, he was striding towards the main street. “Look, this clearly isn’t working.”

He was gone before Thomas could withdraw his hand.

He took a deep breath. And another. When that didn’t help, he hurled his body towards an empty trash can sitting nearby, sending it clattering down the alley with his kick.

He always did this. He always picked the most unattainable person to fall for, thinking that if he just stuck around, eventually they would come around to love him back. As if he was owed that somehow.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid._

Thomas blinked rapidly until the tears prickling at the corners of his eyes subsided, texted James so he wouldn’t go looking for him and went to search for the closest available taxi.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Burr is such a thot in this one lmaooo
> 
> An anon messaged me a while back saying that the song [Sex by Eden](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a_PoCGDfxHs) fits this fic well, and they were extremely correct.
> 
> [[Obligatory tumblr plug](https://nightshiftblues.tumblr.com/)]


	16. Rule #16

“So, in summary,” Angelica shifted on the couch, flinging her legs over Thomas’ lap, “you’re both idiots.”

Thomas sighed and traced his fingertips over the waxed skin of her calf. “I’m pretty sure that was your verdict even before I started talking,” he muttered.

Reuniting with Angelica was always easy like this. Their friendship sort of felt like something that existed in a vacuum, separate from the passage of time and their overlapping acquaintance bases.

There was always a sharp, knowing edge to Angelica’s smile, even when she was trying to be gentle. “Do you know why I advised Eliza to dump Alex before their thing got too serious?”

Thomas huffed. “Because Eliza has two bachelor’s degrees and spent her gap year doing humanitarian explosive ordnance disposal in Afghanistan while Alexander Hamilton is a hot mess?”

Angelica chuckled. “He’s not a bad guy. I liked him a lot as soon as I met him.” Her eyes glazed over, like she was reliving a treasured but distant memory in the quiet space between statements. “Men like Alexander are cursed to climb their whole lives. Eliza is such a supportive person, he would have run her dry. Not because he’s a bad guy, or because he wouldn’t have cared about her. It’s just how he is.” She paused to chew on her lip and looked at Thomas. “I remember thinking that what he needs is someone whose drive matches his own. Someone who won’t be trampled by his ambitions but rises up to the challenge.”

Thomas scoffed and avoided her eyes. “Why don’t _you_ date him, then?”

“Eliza would be upset. Sister-code.” Angelica shrugged. “Besides, I’m too high-maintenance for him.”

The twinge of glee Thomas felt at the knowledge there was someone even Hamilton couldn’t have was overshadowed by the fact that it wasn’t as though he could get with Angelica, either. Thomas probably would have asked her out years ago had he not known with perfect certainty that he would have just gotten shot down gloriously. For one, Angelica would never be caught dead dating someone who didn’t identify as a feminist, which Thomas could respect. Secondly, they both knew Angelica wouldn’t settle for someone still hung up on their college crush.

Angelica nudged at Thomas’ side with her toes and made him yelp. “You know, the more I think about it the more it makes sense.” She grinned, every bit of her earlier bittersweetness obliterated from her expression. “You’re both incapable of quitting while ahead, for one."

Thomas groaned and let his head fall against the backrest. “If I wanted the ‘you need to get with Hamilton so you can be equally terrible together’-speech, I would have gone to James,” he groaned.

Angelica was smiling that knowing smile of hers again. “James _was_ always the smarter one of the two of you.” Her eyes were warm underneath the tease. “And he loves you.”

Just some months ago those words would have felt like a punch in the gut, if only because Thomas knew it was true, but not in the way he wanted it to be. And then there would have been the shame and self-loathing that were par course with feeling like James’ fierce, platonic love wasn’t enough. The whole shebang.

Now there was just heaviness. Like his heart was exhausted at straining towards something that was always visible but out of reach, while also shielding itself from whatever the fuck Hamilton was doing to it. _He_ was exhausted.

"It's been a shitshow, Angelica," he admitted, his eyes still closed in exasperation. "It's like I just never get it right with him. And I have perspective on these things, I thought I knew how awful it can get with someone."

"Yeah?" Angelica prompted.

"Yeah. I mean, do you know what it's like to give a best man-speech at the wedding of the man you love?"

"I don't." Angelica's voice was a sympathetic hum. "But sounds like that would really suck. Hypothetically."

Thomas forced his eyes open and aimed them at the ceiling. He sighed, long and deep. “Look, I’ve done my best. I told him how I felt and he shut me down.”

And didn’t _that_ memory elicit a fun twinge of pain? _That’s your own goddamn fault._ What a train wreck of an interaction, and he and Hamilton had a lot of those to compare to.

“Did you, though?”

Thomas tore his eyes off the white plaster of the ceiling so he could give Angelica an incredulous look.  

She arched an elegant eyebrow. “Or did you have a shouting match in some public bathroom that ended with one of you making a dramatic exit in favor of sitting down and actually working things out?”

This had been a mistake. Angelica knew both Thomas and Alexander all too well. “It wasn’t in a bathroom,” Thomas grumbled eventually.

He didn’t need to look to see how unimpressed Angelica was; it was evident just from the poignant silence and the tilt of her head Thomas detected in the corner of his eye.

“Anyway,” he cleared his throat. “What’s up with you? You could have made CEO now that your old man is retiring," he said. "Instead I gotta deal with Burr, and he’s nowhere near as competent or pretty.”

Angelica threw her head back and snorted, seemingly feeling benevolent enough to allow the un-subtlest change of topic known to mankind. “‘Nowhere near as pretty’? My god, you’re already turning into a gross executive that pats intern’s asses as they fetch him coffee.”

Thomas sputtered. “Excuse you? I’m charming, not slimy. There’s a difference.”

“Tell that to HR when someone takes you up on your bullshit.” Angelica grinned. Thomas rolled his eyes at her but decided against derailing them into a debate about sexual harassment or all things. Angelica seemed to be in a good mood, and he didn’t feel like rocking the boat for the sake of playing devil’s advocate.

She reclined back against the sofa cushions and played with one of her curls, contemplative-looking.

“I don’t want to ride my dad’s coattails to the top,” she said after a pause, her eyes distant. “Making CEO won’t mean jack if I’m just filling a Schuyler-shaped slot my daddy carved out for me.”

Thomas frowned. "No one would think that about you."

His eyes traveled across Angelica's living room. The light and elegant space was tastefully scattered with collection pieces of art and proudly displayed trophies and diplomas ranging from academics to sports (Thomas would never make the mistake of taking Angelica on in tennis again). Angelica had thrived under her father's overly harsh expectations; she was the definition of an impossible-to-live-up-to eldest daughter. If anyone deserved this lifestyle, she did.

Angelica shrugged.  "Maybe not, but it would be true." She cut off Thomas' protests with a single exasperated look. "Listen, I'm sure we both have better things to do than having the same old 'systemic inequality in America'-debate like we're in college again. If you can't get behind the idea that I should try to make amends for the advantageous stack of cards I was dealt at birth, can you at least understand that I want to feel complete ownership of my successes, and the struggles that preceded them?" In reverse to Burr, Angelica's eyes smiled even when her mouth didn't. "Don't you think that's an admirable thing?"

Thomas licked his lips. "Yeah, I suppose."

It didn't take a mind reader to guess who they were both thinking about.

 

~~~

 

Washington’s voice cut through the chatter of the meeting room like a machete: “One more thing before we conclude.”

Bodies dropped back into chairs and hands stalled mid-packing. Washington’s eyes swept over the awaiting crowd approvingly.

Hamilton fidgeted restlessly at his right-hand side. Based on his already devoured coffee order and the tremor of his hands, Thomas made an educated guess that he hadn’t slept for at least a night or two. He was pretty sure Washington arrived to the same conclusion as his gaze landed on his head of finance. The flash of worry and frustration was undeniable even underneath the mask of professionalism. Maybe it was so clear to Thomas because he was using the same mask to conceal his own entitled, unwarranted protectiveness. ‘Birds of a feather’, as Hamilton would say.

Alexander had said there was nothing left between him and Washington and Thomas had no reason to doubt him, so he didn’t. Besides, there definitely was a new strain between them, lingering in those spaces where Hamilton hesitated for a beat before jogging up to his boss to show off some document or another. A brand new, barely detectable sense of unease.

Not that it mattered.

Washington turned his attention back to the general crowd before Alexander noticed or responded to his look of concern. “I will be hiring a temporary replacement for Mr. Madison in December,” he announced.

A startled rumble traveled through the room and Thomas tore his eyes off Alexander so he could glance at James. The mixture of self-conscious embarrassment at the sudden barrage of attention and an overpowering glow of joy and excitement underneath on his friend's face raised a surge of warmth in Thomas' chest.

James cleared his throat and straightened up in his chair. “Dolley and I are expecting.”

A choir of _oohs_ and _oh my God’s_ and back-claps followed. In the periphery of his vision, Thomas detected movement; Alexander startling in his chair, his eyes finding Thomas’ face in what felt like the first time in weeks. Even knowing that he would receive a scolding later for leaving his friend at the mercy of the congratulatory crowd, Thomas grabbed his things and slipped out of the room.

Deep breath. He was doing okay.

That wasn't even a mantra, really; it was too close to being actually true to be that. So much had happened since that day Thomas had learned about Dolley's pregnancy and dragged Hamilton into that cleaning supply closet in favor of facing his heartbreak. Every ache, no matter how piercing, dulled over time. And it was especially hard to keep hurting over this when James kept calling him in tears after every visit to the maternity clinic and coming over to his place for beers whenever Dolley got sick of his constant doting.

The thump of hurried footsteps on his trail barely registered in Thomas' mind, as deep in thought as he was.

Alexander's voice snapped him back to reality in a nanosecond, however. "Thomas, wait!"

Thomas guarded his expression with care as he turned to face Alex on the empty hallway.

Alex looked like he'd chased Thomas down with a sense of urgency, without really planning through what he was going to say. He was breathing hard even though Thomas hadn't made it that far away from the conference room. "Dude, I had no idea, I-"

Maybe it caught up with Alex then, how weird it would be to offer your condolences to someone after finding out their best friend was having a kid. His swallowed and tucked his hands into his pockets.

"You could have told me," he said eventually.

Thomas swallowed. His hands itched to reach for Alexander, so he pushed them into his pockets as well. "Maybe. But what would that have accomplished?" He willed his voice to stay bland, along with his expression, as he met Alexander's intense stare. "Look, clearly we were both dealing with some bullshit we weren't telling each other about. That's fine." This was the part of the speech Thomas had prepared in advance, played it in his head in a loop until the words came to him as easy as his mother's favorite Bible verses. "I'm sorry I freaked out at you the other day. I was drunk and that honestly wasn't called for."

A frown formed over Alexander's dark, expressive eyes. Even under the ugly, yellow fluorescent lights they were the most intense pair of eyes Thomas had seen so up close. He had never really gotten the weird fixation around the eyes in every piece of romantic literature ever written (eyeballs are just blobs of collagen and pigment sitting in your skull), but there was just something ridiculously captivating in the way the gears turning in Alexander's head made them light up, narrow, zero in on targets Thomas couldn't hope to see, but really really wanted to for some reason. _Stop that._

"I hope you can work things out with Washington," Thomas said, his throat suddenly dry, and turned on his heels before Alexander could open his mouth and make this even harder than it had to be.

There was a vague, hurt noise of protest behind him, but no footfall followed.

Every ache dulled over time, Thomas reminded himself as he rounded a corner and headed for his office. He would learn to live without the cold feet kicking in his bed, the lazy fights before sunset that were more tongue than teeth, the dark hawk-like eyes tracing his hands and lips like his lunch order and the way he ate it was the key to the depths of his soul.

It would take a while, Thomas knew that just from the sickening twist of _wrong_ in his chest and his stomach, but he would learn to be better. He would learn to live – really _live_ this time around – without something he couldn't have.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe the real bullshit..... was the feelings we caught along the way.....
> 
> [[Obligatory tumblr plug](https://nightshiftblues.tumblr.com/)]


	17. Rule #3 (reprise)

If Alex was to make a list of all the things that had fundamentally changed about his life over the course of the past five months or so, it would probably reach the floor in a very clichéd cartoon kind of manner. His hatred for networking events, however, would not make that list. Especially now that running to John as soon as the topic of someone’s kid’s high little league football career came up in conversation wasn’t an option.

As it were, retreating to the bar was the only escape route available to Alex once John Adam’s wife got going about the handmade candles she sold on Etsy.

“Can you make, like, a long island iced tea but worse?” he asked the bartender. Having the poor guy pour every other liquor on the shelf into a glass would buy him some time away from the suffocating crowds.

“I can try, sir,” the man said, determination in his eyes, immediately earning his place as Alexander’s personal hero. He slumped against the counter and tapped a restless staccato into a coaster.

The whole office had showed up to celebrate the latest deal and the subsequent spike in stocks and Alex, being partly responsible, was obliged to be there. Nevermind that the man who had CC’d him into the invite was the last person he wanted to be intoxicated around right now, or ever again for that matter. And then there was Jefferson laughing loudly with a bunch of execs across the room - a whole other can of emotions Alex wasn’t going to unpack anytime soon.

“You look like a cornered animal.”

Alex startled and shot glare to his left. Burr leaned against the counter with his elbows looking like he’d been there all evening, lying in wait. Maybe he had, Alex wasn’t exactly on top form tonight.

“Abigail does that to you,” he grunted after a pause. As much as he wanted nothing to do with Burr after his stunt with Thomas, the numbers were against him. Not too many people in the party he could go talk to, now that he’d managed to drive Washington, Thomas and John away. “Had to make my escape before the sales pitch.”

Burr smiled into his pint. “I ordered a candle from her autumn-range. Pink pepper and gingerwood. It smells quite nice.”

Alex closed his eyes. The slight buzz of tipsiness warmed his skin. “Of course you did.”

There was the drag of a bar stool against the floor tiles and Burr’s elbow brushed against Alexander’s. He cracked an eye open and side-glanced at Burr’s inscrutable expression. “What is it?”

Burr inhaled through his nose and sighed. His gaze avoided Alex, but his voice was matter-of-fact. “I reckon I owe you an apology.”

Alex was too surprised to be petty about it. “Let’s hear it.”

Burr took a swig of his beer and shrugged. “For a while there, I suspected there was something improper going on between you and Washington.” Alex coughed into his fist. “But turns out I was wrong. And whatever’s going on between you and Jefferson is no one’s business but your own.” They finally looked at each other and Burr’s eyes actually had a tinge of sincerity to them. “It wasn’t fair of me to jump to the conclusion that you would do something as ethically and morally dubious as to sleep with your boss, with little to no evidence no less. And it was even less fair towards Washington - the man has given me no reason whatsoever to doubt his integrity.”

Leave it to Burr to slip a covert insult into an apology. Alex cast his eyes down to his hands, clasped together over the bar counter. “It’s alright, man,” he said after a pause. “You were being a nosey asshole, but your motivations were understandable I guess.”

Burr raised an eyebrow, probably at his uncharacteristic lack of vigor. Alex shot him a cold look. “This is the part where you also apologize for making Thomas mad at me by telling him we were sleeping together.”

Burr had the audacity to snort. “Yeah, okay. Sorry about that too.” The sincerity in his voice had gone as quickly as it had appeared.

Alex shook his head and huffed out a laugh. “God, you’re such a snake.”

Burr grinned at him, unbothered. “Takes one to know one.”

They were sitting close to each other now and the alcohol warmed Alexander’s blood, like fuel to his already considerable knack for bad decision making. The impulse was there - that all too familiar temptation to escalate, to push. Use the little control he had to de-rail this train even further from its tracks. In all likeliness, someone would see if he leaned in now, or laid his palm on Burr’s elbow or knee. Thomas. Washington. Both of which had done a great job of working the room without crossing paths with him all evening. Alex could quite easily make them _look_ at him and by god, the petty, childish part of him wanted to take that chance and run with it.

He sighed under his breath and pulled back instead, received the drink the bartender was finally bringing his way.

Maybe he had done some growing lately, after all.

Burr eyed the cocktail with a raised brow. “That’s, uh, interesting.”

The concoction was an assortment of different-colored liqueurs piled on top of each other with no discernible pattern to it, topped with a little pink umbrella. A little bit of mixing would definitely turn it into a vaguely brown sludge. The price of it was equally ridiculous, but Alex tipped the bartender extra for sacrificing his professional integrity.

“Cheers.” He raised the glass into a toast and had a sip at the boozy, sugary abomination.

Burr shook his head and climbed to his feet. “Would it make a difference if I told you to take it easy and not overdo it tonight?”

Alex ducked his head and smirked. “Restraint is my middle name.”

“Uh huh.” Aaron pressed his palm on Alexander’s shoulder and grinned. “Stay classy, Alexander Restraint dot Ham.”

Alex allowed himself a breathless chuckle once Burr was out of earshot. So his slutty antics hadn’t gotten everyone involved fired, somehow. That was something. He tried to will the relief to materialize alongside the black pit of wrongness that had been chipping away at his chest ever since Thomas walked out on him on that Tuesday afternoon.

“Well, at least you’re not insecure about your masculinity,” John said by his ear.

Alex tried and failed to mask his startlement as he slid into the barstool Burr had vacated. They sat in a tense silence for several moments that seemed to stretch on and on in the bustle of the lounge.

“I’m a bottom, Laurens,” Alex blurted eventually.

A burst of laughter erupted from behind the tight line of John’s lips. “Point.” He regained his composure, picked up the umbrella from Alex’s drink and twirled it between his fingers.

Alex was intimately acquainted with this atmosphere. They’d been here many times before, first as friends, then as lovers, then as best friends. They both had a temper and a surplus of pride, but they also cared for each other too much not to circle back until they were shoulder to shoulder again. Mute and still somewhat wounded, waiting for something to give.

Alex studied his friend’s profile as John pretended to be transfixed with the umbrella, and his chest went tight with regret. He knew John would always forgive him. That in itself made the way he sometimes acted towards him unforgivable.

“I saw you talking to Burr,” John said before Alex managed to dress the regret he felt into words.

He blinked. “Yeah?”

John’s eyes remained fixed on the twirling little umbrella. “I’m still half convinced you two are canoodling behind all of our backs.”

This time it was Alex who snorted unattractively. “‘Canoodling’,” he repeated with an exaggerated Southern accent and grinned as John flipped him off. “We’re not.” John gave him a look and Alex laid a careful hand on his arm and leaned in, repeating, “We’re _not._ Whatever… tension there may be between us, it never went anywhere. And I honestly don’t think it ever will.”

John turned to finally meet his gaze, skepticism and intrigue in his eyes. “And Jefferson?”

Alex swallowed. John wasn’t Burr; he couldn’t keep lying to his best friend if he wanted to salvage anything from the wreckage of his recent life choices.

He closed his eyes and sighed. “He and I were, uh… we were...”

John quirked a brow. “Canoodling?”

Alex rolled his eyes. “We were fucking, John.”

John inhaled, deep, and nodded to himself. “Alrighty then. That’s… interesting.”

“Just get it out of your system.”

“I knew your inability to resist Southern charms would bite you in the ass eventually.”

Alex groaned and buried his head into his arms. “He didn’t _charm_ me, to begin with anyway. It was a bad judgement call that just sort of… escalated, alright?”

John’s grin faded into a faint smile. “So why didn’t you tell me? I mean, of course I was gonna give you a hard time over it, but. It kinda seemed like there was… more to it. I could tell something was really bothering you.”

Alex ran his fingers idly up and down the damp side of his cocktail glass. He sighed. “That’s why. It became something… a lot more complicated than I intended it to be, and I was…” He bit his tongue.

“Scared?” John offered, his voice turning gentle.

Alex nodded mutely and exhaled with a hiss. “Anyway, I messed it up. I messed all of it up, so. That’s that. I just wanted to be honest with you.”

“Alex…”

“And I’m sorry, alright?” Alex spun around in his chair and faced John with a sudden urgency swelling in his chest. “I’m really sorry, for lying to you and also about what I said the other day.”

John looked at him for a moment, sighed and then nodded. “Alright, man. Apology accepted. I know you say stuff you don’t mean when you’re angry.”

Alex leaned in until John met his gaze. “That doesn’t make it okay.”

The look of startlement on John’s face melted into an exasperated smile. “C’mere.”

Their embrace was clumsy on account of them both being perched on bar stools, but no less sincere. Alex could have sobbed from relief, but maybe that was the drink talking.

“Now,” John said with a smile as they pulled apart, “any other secret office dalliances I should know about?”

Alexander’s laugh came out awkward and high-pitched. “Well, since you asked.” His eyes found Washington in the crowd with ease, seemingly deep in conversation with Madison. “About that Southern charm.”

It took a moment for John to follow his gaze, and even longer to process the implication.

“Oh, you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

 

~~~

 

The tail end of the evening found Alexander flinging cold tap water at his face in the mensroom.

With John acting as a social buffer by his side, the mingling was more tolerable, but the night still seemed to stretch on and on with no respite in sight. All Alex wanted to do was go home, order an overpriced pizza, stuff his face with it and forget the rest on the counter as he curled up in bed. Maybe John could be persuaded to come and cuddle with him too, though Alex probably shouldn’t push his luck with this careful truce they’d forged. He knew better than to assume that everything had been mended just because he’d apologized and John had forgiven. It would take some actual actions (and bribery in the form of takeout and drinks) to make amends.

As Alex squeezed his eyes shut and tried to make a proper evaluation of his state of drunkenness, the door swung open. It took a moment for his mind to catch up to the way his stomach sank with a sickening lurch at the sound of slow, heavy footsteps approaching.

Even now, his body responded to Washington in ways his mind couldn’t quite keep up with, let alone control.

He opened his eyes and met Washington’s gaze via the mirror. “Sir.”

“Alexander.”

Alex could only imagine how forced his smile looked. His whole body pulsed with anxiety and yearning and regret, each feeling more complicated than the next. His mind helpfully supplied that this was the first time they were alone in a room, since... Well, since.

Alex licked his lips, not letting himself latch onto the way Washington’s eyes were drawn to the movement.

“Are you quite alright, son?” Washington asked and Alex turned away with the guise of going to dry his hands. The ‘son’ had made a comeback and that alone told him enough. “You’ve had quite a few drinks.”

Alexander’s chuckle was dry and clipped. “Not to worry, sir. I’m ‘order too much takeout and Facebook stalk my estranged brother’-drunk, not ‘twerk on a table and vomit on client’s shoes’-drunk.” He yanked out several sheets of paper towel as he spoke, sending a silent apology to the rainforests of Amazon as he did.

“Well, at least you’re as verbose as ever, though perhaps not quite as eloquent.”

When Alex turned around, Washington was leaning against the row of sinks, arms folded and a wry smile twisting his lips. He wished someone would walk in and break this tension stretching the air taunt, repel the temptation to speak. Like, actually speak some of the sorry thoughts that had been rattling about in his brain weeks in and weeks out.

Sober Alex had been through this, considered and examined it from every possible angle over and over again, and only ever reached a single conclusion; that explaining was useless. Alex could talk and talk until his voice gave out, or until his fingers turned sore and stiff from typing. He could explain how Washington was the reason he touched Thomas to begin with, how even now his presence turned Alexander’s skin tight and his lungs weak.

It wouldn’t change anything. They would never know whether a different timing would have made a difference, made it work. The truth of the matter was that Alex had been lost on Washington the moment he fell into bed with Thomas and there was no changing or fixing it.

And what was it that Washington had told Alex the first time he’d ruined a deal negotiation by losing his patience and running his mouth? _No excuse is better than a bad one._

Sober Alex had decided that offering an explanation as to why Alex had said another man’s name when Washington was giving him everything he’d ever wanted and more was a bad idea, and Alex still had enough of his wits about him to stick to that resolve. As much as it ached now that Washington was looking at him with that carefully guarded expression from across the room.

All this ran through Alexander’s head within the span of few seconds and his face must have betrayed some of it, since a concerned wrinkle appeared between Washington’s brows. His boss sighed, casting his eyes down, and ran an exasperated hand over his eyes.

“Hamilton, I don’t think I ever-”

“Sir, forgive me, but,” Alex interrupted, “I don’t think I can endure another apology tonight. Least of all from you.”

Washington’s mouth pressed into a tight line, but he nodded slowly. “I just.” His shoulders slumped (another piece chipped away in Alexander’s chest) and he gestured between them. “I’m just worried, about this. About you. You haven’t been like yourself lately. You’re clearly not sleeping, and you’re distracted at work.”

Alexander’s stomach lurched again and the rush of shame left him dizzy and burning. “I’ll do better, sir, I swear-”

“That’s not-” Washington closed his eyes and sighed. “That’s not what I meant. Your work is up to par and beyond, like always.” He crossed the distance between them in a few long strides and laid his palm on Alexander’s shoulder. “For God’s sake, Alex, can’t you just accept that people care about you beyond what you do to cater to them?”

Alex blinked a few times, frozen and helpless.

There was too much in Washington’s eyes for him to unpack, and it sort of hit Alex in that moment that he wasn’t the only one who was biting his tongue. That maybe there was a million things Washington wasn’t saying, as well.

Washington’s eyes fell closed for a brief moment. “You’re drunk. James Madison has agreed to give you a ride home.”

Whatever Alex had been expecting him to say, that wasn’t it. “I don’t… What?”

Washington’s arm looped around his shoulders (casual, friendly, unyielding) and he found himself walked towards the door. “Wait, why did you come in here to begin with?”

His question went unanswered and Alexander’s eyes widened as he saw James Madison, already in position by the exit, as the restroom door flung open.

That was where Alex hit the proverbial brakes, digging his heels into the velvet carpet until they came to a clumsy halt. “Sir,” he sputtered, dread pooling in his stomach, “I’m sorry but no fucking way, I’m not gonna do this.”

Suddenly Washington’s hand clasped over the base of his neck, strong and steady and impossibly warm. Alexander’s breath hitched and his mouth went dry and it was like his spine turned into a lightning rod and _dear God why?_

Washington leaned in, so close Alex felt the caress of his warm breath on the shell of his ear as he said, low and quiet, “Figure it out, Alexander.”

His thumb briefly stroked over the sensitive skin of his neck, once, and then Alex was showed forwards, towards the exit. He nearly fell on his face and used the momentum to propel his shaky legs quickly to the front of the lobby. His face was alight with fluster and his knees weak and getting in a car with Madison was preferable to having anyone see him like this. Very narrowly so, but still.

Besides. Alex could tell, even then, that this was Washington’s last order to him. He had to honor it.

He exchanged a silent nod with James (looking as mildly inconvenienced as ever) and made a mental note to text John as they exited the building.

“Backseat,” Madison grunted as Alex went for the passenger seat. That alone was a red flag that he definitely would have picked up on in a less flustered and more sober state.

As it were, he didn’t suspect a thing until he climbed to the back seat, yanked the door shut, and heard a pensive “took you long enough” from his left-hand side.

Alex froze, heart hammering in his chest, and stared in silent mortification, as Thomas raised his eyes from his phone and met his. Based on the expression of horror that was reflected on the other man’s face, the trap had been mutual.

Before either of them thought to move, the engine whirred to life and the car was steered onto the road.

“A standard issue reminder that we’re all grown, mature adults here,” James said. “You live close to each other and were both obviously having a bad time, and this is convenient.”

Alex snorted. “If this was about convenience, we would be carpooling to work every morning like best chums, wouldn’t we?”

“If that’s what it takes to get you two to communicate, or at least act like humans around each other, that’s exactly what we’ll do.” James’ exasperated eyes met Alexander’s via the rearview mirror. “Don’t try me, Hamilton.”

There was a dry snort to Alexander’s left, in the space he was very deliberately not attending to. If being in close quarters with Washington was like having the rug yanked from under his feet, being around Thomas like this, close enough to touch, was just… so familiar and yet so _much_ at the same time. What did normal, well-adjusted people even do with their hands in regular situations? Alex pulled his phone out of his pocket, opened a weather app and stared at it keenly.

The tense, drawn-out silence that ensued was broken by Madison’s impatient sigh. “Alex, how do you feel about Ariana Grande?”

The question startled Alex into closing the app. “What?”

“Let me guess,” Thomas pitched in. “She’s either symptomatic of everything wrong with the modern pop industry, or secretly ingenious and an underappreciated feminist icon.”

Well, Alex couldn’t just let that slide. “Oh please. That hot take is basically just the Madonna-whore complex ham-fisted into tired pop culture discourse.” He rolled his eyes, ignoring Thomas’ pointed raise of an eyebrow. “The girl has pipes, I’ll give her that, but she doesn’t really enunciate words in a coherent way.” This, Alex could do. Pick a case and argue it. “Which, I suppose, is _symptomatic_ of the current pop scene in general. And I’m not totally comfortable with the childlike coy coquette-aspect of her image, but that’s a decision made by someone on her marketing team, and not really her fault.”

Thomas crossed his arms spread his knees further apart. “Now I’m no Angelica Schuyler so my feminist theory on 21st century female empowerment could use some brushing up,” he drawled in that slow yet sharp manner of his, “but I’m pretty sure that treating female artists as mere creations of the crusty white guys on their marketing teams with no agency of their own is not exactly- James, why are you pulling over?”

“Dolley wants a slushie,” Madison said over his shoulder as he steered the car off the main road.

Alex and Thomas groaned in unison. “And you can’t get it _after_ we’ve escaped the most awkward car ride I’ve experienced since my dad had to come get us from South Carolina after we ran out of gas?” Thomas whined.

Oh, nice. An unwelcome surge of irrational jealousy over the history of closeness and fun anecdotes that Thomas shared with the man he actually loved. Perfect. Alex burrowed deeper into the leather of his seat.

James snorted and gave Thomas a pointed look via the mirror. “There’s a 7-Eleven right there, and one does not deny a pregnant lady her craving. She is carrying our _child,_ Thomas-“

“Alright, alright.” Thomas threw his hands up in surrender.

Madison pulled up into a parking spot curiously far away from the shop entrance and stepped out of the car briskly. “Sit tight, you two.”

The sound of his door slamming was followed by a loud click, then a disbelieving silence.

“Did he just…?” Alex pulled on his door handle experimentally and his suspicions were confirmed. “This isn’t happening.”

“Oh, come on!” Thomas groaned and let his face fall into his hands. “Can’t believe I fell for that again.”

“Again?!”

“Locking people into cars until they talk their _feelings_ out, it’s what he does,” Thomas’ strained voice was muffled by his palms. “It’s a trademark James-move.”

Alex laughed, though it sounded more like a cry for help. “Are you sure he’s not just planning on keeping us here until we run out of air and suffocate?”

Thomas’ jacket was thrown across the seat between them so Alex could see the line of his shoulder blades pressing against his shirt as he hunched over. “It’s a fucking Lexus, Hamilton, it’s not air-sealed even when turned off.” He rubbed his eyes and stared the back of the driver’s seat. “Though now that I think about it, you could probably replenish all the air quicker than it can be replaced just by talking about the German economy for a bit.”

Alex had never been particularly prone to claustrophobia, but right now he could relate to the feeling. The smell of Thomas’ musky cologne (the one he used for nice evening gatherings) invaded his senses and he needed to get out of this car. If ‘emotional claustrophobia’ was a thing that existed, he was swimming in it.

“I’m sure there’s a switch on the control panel to unlock the doors,” he said and lunged at the front seat, blindly reaching for the assortment of buttons he assumed would be behind the steering wheel.

“Oh, no you won’t!” Thomas grabbed the back of his shirt and yanked him backwards with a yelp. “You’ll just trigger the alarm or something, and I am not counting on James not being petty enough to leave us in here anyway.”

Alex fell back into his seat with an _oomph_ and scrambled to get away from the grip. “Fuck, okay, I get it! James is the coolest of dudes on planet Earth and we all just love him!”

Thomas withdrew his hard slowly. “That has… literally nothing to do with what I just said whatsoever.”

“I know,” Alex snapped. The alcohol that cologne were making him sloppy and stupid and his breathing was turning frantic and shallow in his chest. “I’m aware of the fact that I’m the last person who gets to act like a crazy, jealous ex towards you, alright?!”

This time it was him burying his head in his hands as Thomas stared in stunned silence.

Alex swallowed and prayed for a sinkhole to conveniently open up and swallow him. “You, uh… you wanna go back to talking about Ariana Grande?”

Another silence, the downtown New York-kind with sirens and traffic light sound signals in the distance.

Alexander’s whole spine went rigid as Thomas’ palm landed on his shoulder. The light touch moved slowly, carefully down his shoulder blade and back up his spine, like a question, stopping at the collar of his shirt. There it sat for what felt like a full minute, at least.

Thomas’s voice was tight. “Do you want to...?”

Alex inhaled between his teeth, sharp. “Oh, fuck yes.”

He bumped his head into the roof of the car in the process of flinging himself into Thomas’ lap and the pain barely registered. It took a whole lot of awkward scrambling to finally get him sitting astride Thomas’ lap in the tightly confined space, but they made it happen eventually.

Kissing Thomas again felt so good Alex groaned out loud, though he didn’t manage to do it for long before his lips were sealed again and there was a vaguely bourbon-tasting tongue in his mouth and Thomas’s hands were everywhere like he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to hold onto his hips or his neck or the sides of his face and ended up trying to do all at once. Alex meanwhile clung to his shoulders like a drowning man, which he sort of had been until this very moment.

“Why do I _miss_ you so god damn much?” he growled against Thomas’ lips.

Thomas only wrapped an arm around his middle in response and pulled him in tighter until Alex was flush against his chest and felt the frantic thump of his heart under his palm. His own heart responded in kind and his head swam with the overwhelming intensity of this feeling and-

It wasn’t enough.

Alex made himself pull back, even as Thomas chased his lips with a quiet whine, and placed his palms on Thomas’s face, framing it carefully.

He couldn’t keep doing this, he couldn’t keep taking the easy way out and avoiding conversations he didn’t want to have, in fear of actually liking what he would hear. Of having to re-evaluate what it really was that he wanted in life.

Alex licked his lips and forced himself to look Thomas in the eyes. “That night, when you said you made-“ he choked on his words and cleared his throat. “When you came over. Were you imagining that I was James?”

God, he’d never been this scared in his life.

Thomas closed his eyes and licked his lips as well. “No,” he breathed eventually. “No, I… I wanted to…”

Alex leaned in until their foreheads were pressed together and lowered his palms to the rigid line of Thomas’ shoulders, massaged into the tense muscles with his thumbs. “One of us is gonna have to be really fucking brave right now,” he whispered. “I’m sorry I keep expecting it to be you, and I promise I’ll work on it, but just please tell me what happened that night.”

“I… shit, Alex.” Thomas lowered his head and rested the top of his cheek against Alexander’s collarbone. Whether it was for comfort of to hide his face, Alex couldn’t be sure. But then Thomas was talking. “I was laying on my couch that night, and I just realized that I wanted to touch you. Not just pin you down and take what I wanted from you, but like really _touch_ you, have your skin under my hands and know that you were there.” Alex shivered and Thomas finally pulled back and looked at him, a new kind of certainty in his eyes. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I still want to rough you up in bed and any other surface I can find, that’s never gonna change.” Thomas bit down on his lower lip and it was too dark to tell for sure, but Alex could swear he was blushing. God knew he was. “I want to do everything to you, touch you in every way possible. But I also want to do everything _with_ you. That’s the scariest part.”

And there it was.

It was a question of whether Alexander’s feelings for Thomas ran deeper than his pride.

“The reason my thing ended with Washington,” Alex said slowly, eyes fixated on one of Thomas’ curls, “was that I said your name in his bed.”

“Oh,” Thomas breathed, his voice unreadable.

Alex drew in a sharp breath. “That was when I realized that I associate feeling good and wanting more with… well, you.”

Thomas made a contemplative noise. Alex wanted to kiss him again so much it was nearly painful.

“But that could just be a habit, or a conditioning-thing,” Thomas pointed out. His thumbs massaged into Alexander’s sides.

“Yeah,” Alex sighed. “Yeah, but I know what I want. And Lord help me, turns out it’s you.” He poked at Thomas’ chest for emphasis. “So there.”

Thomas just stared at him blankly for a moment, like the turn of events wasn’t quite processing, though his thumbs were still caressing Alexander’s side in a calming motion.

“Look,” Alex said as softly as he could with his heart still banging in his chest. “I know we haven’t been the best at being good to each other, or trusting each other, and I can’t say I’m sure what that would even look like.” Thomas raised a brow like he was wordlessly saying _great pep talk._ He sighed. “I’m just saying that I would like to try.”

Thomas exhaled slowly and nodded. “I think I would like to try too.”

“Great.”

“Fantastic.”

A slightly delirious laugh erupted from Alexander’s chest, and this time it was him pressing his forehead against Thomas’ collarbone. “I’m so fucking drunk right now.”

Thomas’ fingertips swept up and down the line of his spine. “I’m starting to suspect that rule three is getting violated tonight… again.”

Alex snorted and nuzzled into the crook of Thomas’ neck, drawing out a shiver. “And I’m starting to suspect that perhaps we’re not very good at following rules.”

A stretching silence. Alex pulled back to look at Thomas’s face. His smile was self-aware and slightly lost. “So… now what?”

Alex responded by ducking down and finally kissing him again. The action seemed to zap Thomas right out of the mild shock he’d fallen into – he grunted and grabbed Alexander’s hips with bruising force, drawing him down into a slow roll of his hips. Alex whimpered unabashedly into Thomas’ mouth – kissing him wasn’t the only thing he’d missed sorely.

They seemed to be in agreement over that point, seeing as Thomas’ hands came down to knead on his ass and Alex felt a telltale hardening underneath him. “Oh,” Thomas breathed against his lips. “I’m gonna _ruin_ you toni-“

The loud, sharp knock on the car window startled Alex so badly he nearly bit Thomas’ lower lip clean off.

“Now I just know you two aren’t actually fucking in my Lexus,” Madison’s voice sounded from behind the door.

Alex climbed guiltily off Thomas’ lap as the man as into the driver’s seat.

“Was that not the end goal of your diabolical plan here?”

“I assumed you two could control yourself long enough for me to have a slushie and read a magazine,” James grunted. “A gross miscalculation on my part, I admit.”

Thomas slid his hand into Alexander’s, their finger intertwining, and a warm, pleased flush spread in his chest like ripples on a lake surface.

“Alexander’s place?” James inquired and turned the ignition. Thomas kicked the back of his seat and made his yelp. “Hey!”

Thomas grinned at Alex sideways. “My place.”

 

~~~ 3 months later ~~~

 

Alex sat, cross legged, on the soft baby blue carpet on Thomas’ bathroom floor and listened to the calming splish splash of the gradually filling bathtub. _You stay right there,_ Thomas had told him firmly before disappearing to fetch towels and whatnot, so that’s what he was doing. They were both probably thinking about a certain earlier incident where Alex had made a daring escape before Thomas had managed to give him a bath, so Alex didn’t really blame him. Not that he was going anywhere now, or anytime soon.

Thomas stepped back into the room and Alex grinned as his gaze lingered appreciatively on his boxer-clad body. His skin was still littered with bruises and bite marks, little mementos of their latest round of… lovemaking? He’d get used to the thought eventually, maybe.

Alexander’s vague fears of the sex becoming somehow less satisfying and passionate when the whole mutual hatred-aspect was removed from the equation had been proven unfounded, and then some. Thomas knew his body, his needs and his limits probably better than Alex did himself at this point, and wasn’t afraid to use that knowledge.

A bundle of towels was dropped onto the toilet seat and Thomas crouched down in front of him, a dark and considering look in his eyes. Alex raised his arms above his head and stretched, slowly, his spine bending into a playful arch and his shoulders popping satisfyingly.

Thomas cringed. “Gross. Is your skeleton okay?”

Alex winked. “Better than my backside.”

Thomas hummed and his eyes strayed downwards. “I’m kinda impressed you can still sit like that, actually.”

“I can take it.” Alex lowered his arms and leaned his back against the cold side of the tub.

“Yeah?” Thomas grabbed his chin and leaned in for a kiss. “You can’t run for a mile to save your life, but you can endure being rammed in the ass several times in a span of one night?” he mumbled as he peppered kisses over Alexander’s mouth, jaw and neck.

The breath Alex drew in was already slightly shaky. “I mean, why would anyone choose to jog when I can think of a few way better ways of burning calories?”

“And yet,” Thomas said as he yanked on Alex’s arm unlit he was laid on his back, “I’m the one doing most of the work.”

Whatever retort Alex had to that got swallowed by Thomas’ mouth as he settled between his things, and Alex immediately wrapped his legs around his waist and drew him closer. Whoever had called him a greedy person before Thomas came into the picture clearly hadn’t seen the worst of it yet; he always wanted more and more with this man, and it still sort of blew this mind that he could keep _having._

Even now, his cock was hardening in his boxers as Thomas licked greedily into his mouth even though it had literally been less than half an hour since Thomas last fucked him into the mattress, and he could feel the man on top of him responding in kind. If it wasn’t for work, they would probably never make it out of the house.

“You’re just gonna take me here, on the floor?” Alex panted as Thomas deliberately rolled his hips against his.

“If you’re trying to sound disinclined, it’s not working,” Thomas chuckled against his jawline. He hooked a finger into the waistband of Alexander’s boxers. “Get these off.”

Alex stilled for a moment, then huffed. “You know what?” He grabbed Thomas’ (distractingly toned and firm) biceps and pushed, until the other man moved off of him. “I take offence to that comment about you doing all the work.”

“Oh yeah?”

Eventually Thomas co-operated and laid down on the floor instead, Alex straddling him after slipping out of his boxers. He dragged Thomas’ boxers down to his thigs and ground down against his now fully hardened length. He was rewarded with a quiet moan.

“Besides,” he bent down to kiss the corner of Thomas’ mouth and winked, “your floor tiles are cold.”

Thomas’ head fell back as he laughed, the corners of his eyes crinkling and the white rows of his teeth flashing under the lights. Alexander’s heart did a little flutter in his chest. He took both of their cocks into his hand and stroked them in unison, observed the way the smile turned into a scrunched-up mask of pleasure.

“God,” Thomas moaned.

“Just Alex is fine,” he hummed and moved his hand slowly.

Thomas cracked an eye open and glanced up at him. “You better stop cracking dad jokes and start riding my cock, or I’ll pin you into the floor again.”

Alex stuck his tongue out. “Yes, sir.”

“Brat,” Thomas muttered as Alex lowered himself onto his shaft with relative ease – it really had been quite recent when they last did this.

“Mmh,” Alex bit into his lower lip as he rocked his hips, slowly, easing into the stretch. Thomas’s hands caressed his stomach, his hips, his things.

“God, you look so good like this,” Thomas whispered reverently and Alex blushed under his searing stare. There was no barrier between them, no dimmed-out lights or a duvet to bury his face into. But the unabashedly adoring look in Thomas’ eyes made him feel as beautiful as it made him feel debased.

“And just for you,” he sighed as he started to rock his hips in earnest, hands propped on the solid muscles of Thomas’ chest for support.

“Just for me,” Thomas repeated quietly and pressed his fingers into a spot on Alexander’s collarbone, a bruise based on the twinge of pain the action elicited. The same fingers soon wrapped around his throat and squeezed lightly, making Alex whine. The slide of Thomas’ cock inside him was so perfect, so slick and sweet that every twist of his hips made pleasure simmer hotter in his guts. They were both still so sensitive and overworked this wouldn’t last long, but for once it didn’t bother Alex because he knew there would be a next time, and a next one, and a next one again.

Thomas pulled Alex down into another sloppy, wet kiss and started to thrust his hips upwards to meet his movements. Just as Alex predicted, Thomas soon came inside him with a loud groan and Alex spilled soon after, Thomas’ hand around his dick. They slumped into a sweaty pile of limbs, the fluffy blue carpet in a messy bundle under Thomas’ shoulder. The tub was so full at this point that the air of the room felt warm and heavy with moisture, and the mirror had fogged up.

“Alright.” Thomas slapped Alexander’s flank lightly. “Up you go, the tub’s gonna overfill soon.”

Alex threw in a pink, sweet-smelling bubble bar and stepped into the tub gingerly after Thomas, his back laid against his chest. As much as he wanted to resent Thomas for owning a tub big enough to easily fit both of them, it was difficult to do when his muscles were rendered lax in the hot water and those hands were drawing idle patterns over his skin, secure arms wrapped around him. _So this is what aftercare is really about._

“Babe?” Thomas said carefully, like he was feeling the taste of the word in his mouth.

Alex leaned his head against his shoulder and hummed to show he was listening.

“Will you come with me to James’ kid’s christening?”

Alex blinked. “It hasn’t even come out yet.”

Thomas shrugged. “Well, I’m no expert but I’m assuming it’s gon’ do that eventually.”

“Hardi har.” Alex slapped his knee and stared at the swirling bubbles for a moment in contemplative silence.

Thomas wouldn’t be asking if he didn’t mean it in a date kind of a way. Which obviously wasn’t a huge deal in itself (they’d been expanding their date repertoire from diner visits considerably over the past few months), but it would mean being around people who actually mattered, as a couple. Acquaintances. Co-workers. Thomas actually wanted to be seen with him, by everyone. It was strange.

And maybe he wanted a comforting presence there, too, watching his first love take yet another step into a life Thomas had once wanted to share with him more than anything in the world.

“Yeah,” Alex heard himself say. “Yeah, of course I’ll come.”

Thomas kissed his shoulder. “Thank you.”

Washington would probably be there too, Alex realized with a slight jolt. Not that that would really matter, either; Washington saw them every day at work. Obviously they kept a professional distance there, but. Washington had always seen more than Alex wanted him to, he was now realizing. It would be different. It would be strange and intimate in some way Alex found hard to put his finger on. Not that he was presuming that his boss was still hung up on him whatsoever, but-

Alex realized he was getting sucked in by an old, unproductive thought-spiral and took a deep breath to calm himself.

“What are you thinking about?” Thomas said softly by his ear, stroking Alexander’s side slowly.

Alex swallowed and took another deep breath.

“I think I’ll always want Washington.”

It would have been a cruel thing to say if it wasn’t something they both knew already. If Alex had learned anything from the chaotic, painful way he had stumbled his way into Thomas’ arms, it was that having elephants in the (bed)room didn’t help anyone.

Thomas’ fingers, which had stilled for a moment, resumed stroking his side, rib by rib. “I know.”

Alex ran his hands up and down Thomas’ thighs to keep them occupied. His whole face was heating up, and not just from the steam. “But I love you more than I want him,” he said.

The following silence probably only felt so long because Alex spent it holding his breath.

Thomas wrapped his arms around Alex tighter, pulled him even tighter against his chest. “And I love you more than I love James,” he said into his hair.

Alex exhaled, his muscles easing up. “Is that gonna be enough?”

Thomas kissed his neck, licked a wet strip across the salty skin. “I guess we’ll see. I hope so.”

“I hope so too.”

He really did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few notes:
> 
> \- Sorry this took like 10 years.
> 
> \- Drunk makeouts are not a solution to anything in real life, kids.
> 
> \- If this was a Good fic, what would now follow is a long ass arc where these tarts gradually build an actual healthy relationship based on mutual respect and communication. Alas, I’m not woke nor patient enough to write that.
> 
> \- Let me be obnoxious for a second. Updating this story has been such an incredible source of happiness and validation in my life, and it’s all thanks to the wonderful people who have read and commented, whether it was on every chapter or just once. I love you all so much. Thank you.
> 
> Check out [my tumblr](https://nightshiftblues.tumblr.com/) mostly for copious amounts of headcanons.


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